


12 Days of Christmas

by Madam_Fandom



Series: Tumblr Prompts [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Case Fic, Christmas, Christmas Tree, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Emotional Hurt, HiatuStory December Challenge, Holding Hands, Ice Skating, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Tumblr Prompt, mention of Moriarty, mention of Mrs Hudson - Freeform, trigger warning: mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-17 12:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13077000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_Fandom/pseuds/Madam_Fandom
Summary: The 12 days of Christmas, Sherlock style. For the 12 days of Christmas someone is leaving mysterious and worrisome gifts beneath the tree at 221b.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for H.I.A.T.U.Story's December prompt, Christmas, but I think the story has gotten a bit away from me (sure to be well over the allotted 25,000 words), so I'm posting it as a chapter story.
> 
> Hope you enjoy and Happy Holidays!

John Watson was bone tired. They had just wrapped up another huge case for Scotland Yard and he had just finished a twelve-hour shift at the clinic. Sherlock kept harassing him to quit, arguing that he didn’t need to work there, that if he started charging for his services it would be more than enough to cover their bills. But Sherlock had yet to start charging so John had yet to quit.

Opening the door to their flat he stopped short. Looking at the door to the flat again, he wanted to make sure he was in the right place.

Sherlock wiggling from underneath the huge Christmas tree that stood in their sitting room further cementing the fact that John was indeed in the right flat.

“John! You’re home early, you only just left. I wanted this to be a surprise.”

“Sherlock, I’ve been gone for over twelve hours! And this- well this _is_ a surprise.”

Sherlock beamed at him. “Do you like it?”

John looked at the tree, there wasn’t much to like yet, it was still bare and the only decorative touch was the tree skirt Sherlock had been putting on when he arrived. “It’s great, I’m sure it’ll be really lovely once it is decorated with lights and bulbs.”

Sherlock’s smile faltered and John rushed to amend his statement. “Not that it isn’t lovely now. Did you pick it out yourself?”

“I did. I was feeling rather festive after our last case.”

John finally closed the door and walked to his chair and dropped into it. He was so tired. He hadn’t realized he had closed his eyes until he felt a blanket covering him. Peeking out of one eye he saw Sherlock looking down at him, he had a peculiar look on his face. Too tired to analyze what he saw John snuggled into the blanket and slept.

 

The next morning John woke up to the smell of coffee brewing. John stood up stretching, realizing he’d spent the entire night in the chair and Sherlock had finished decorating the tree. It was magnificent. John stood there several minutes just taking in the sheer splendour of their Christmas tree. Sherlock had gone all out. There were lights, and bulbs, glass icicles, and ornaments. Finally getting his fill of the tree he turned to enter the kitchen only to find Sherlock standing there sipping on a cup of his own. “Good morning Sherlock. The tree came out really well. You truly outdid yourself.”

“Thank you, John, glad you like it.”

“Sorry I fell asleep, I could’ve helped you with it.”

“Nonsense, you were tired. Do you have to work today?”

“No. Thankfully I’m off for the next two days.”

“Splendid. Would you care to accompany me out?”

There was a twinkle in Sherlock’s eye, John found it most intriguing. “Sure, where to and when?”

“Skating and in a couple of hours. I’m sure you will want to eat and freshen up.”

John nodded and made his way to the kitchen where he made himself some breakfast and poured a cup of coffee. Smiling, John thought to himself, not a bad way to start his day.

***

Sherlock watched John with barely concealed amusement. When he’d asked John to come skating with him, he’d assumed John knew how to skate. Instead, here they were in the middle of a rink and John was struggling to keep his balance.

“Bloody hell!” John exclaimed as he fell for the umpteenth time that morning. “No, no, don’t help me I’ll get the hang of it again soon enough.” John watched as Sherlock gracefully skated a circle around him and then stopped within inches of him with his hand out. Sighing John gave in and took the offered hand.

“If you couldn’t skate, why on earth did you agree to come?” Sherlock asked, a smile still softening his face. John looked up at Sherlock, he found himself falling into the startling blue of Sherlock’s eyes and spoke the truth before he had a chance to censor himself, “To spend time with you.”

“Oh.” Sherlock wasn’t expecting that answer and the smile dropped from his face. John wanted to spend time with him?

“I mean, I skated when I was a kid, I thought this was one of those things you never forget how to do?”

“I guess they got that wrong John. Here let me help you.”

John was painfully aware of the fact that Sherlock was still holding his hand. “Sherlock, I’m not going to let you swing me around this bloody circle like I was some little tyke.”

“Nonsense John, most people would just as soon believe that we’re a couple, not that I’m helping you stay balanced. Come on it’ll be fun. It’s a lot like flying.

They skated hand in hand for roughly an hour. When finally Sherlock pulled them to a stop at the edge he suggested, “Let’s grab a bite to eat and some hot chocolate.”

“Christ, you really do think I’m a kid.”

 

The duo walked down the street no destination in mind, John was surprised when he felt Sherlock slide his hand into his. He didn’t comment, in fact, he didn’t acknowledge the action in any way. It was nice, he didn’t want to mess it up.

When they finally stopped it was at a small sandwich shop that Sherlock had never been to, but he was hungry now and had lost a lot of his patience along the way. He sat down at a table while John ordered them some food and chocolate.

There was a television on in the corner with the sound turned down, the news was on and they were discussing the case that Sherlock had just closed.Even though he couldn’t hear what they were saying he was sure they were praising the skill and hard work of all those involved in bringing the perpetrator to justice. Sherlock couldn’t help but reflect on the case, sure they knew the who, the how, and the why, and they had a face to put to the crime, but Sherlock knew they hadn’t caught the real mastermind, James Moriarty. Their last several cases all ended the same with their crim confessing and reluctantly selling out the brains behind their crimes. James Moriarty appeared to be a consulting criminal; someone who sold his expertise to anyone willing to pay.

 

Sherlock was snapped out of his musing when John placed a plate and hot cup in front of him.

“Nope, I know that look. No casework while we are out, we’ll be home soon enough where we can talk about it. Deal?”

Sherlock looked at John now seated across from him, his cheeks were ruddy from the cold air and he had his serious no-nonsense look about him, John meant business. “Alright.”

John frowned. That had been too easy. “What are you up to Sherlock? That was entirely too easy.”

“Nothing, I swear it. It’s just you’re right; why spoil a pleasant outing with unpleasantness?”

John stared at Sherlock a moment, he was acting very out of character. First the tree, then the outing, hand holding and now agreeing to not talk about the case. John knew first hand Sherlock really was only extra nice like this when he was up to something, it made him uneasy and unable to enjoy lunch as much as he normally would have.

Sherlock noticed that John’s easygoing demeanour had changed since he agreed to not talk about work. He thought that would’ve made him happy. “John, have I done something wrong?”

John looked up in shock, “Wrong? No, it’s just usually when you’re this nice and amiable you’re up to something. You’re usually trying to apologize for something or trying to soften me up for something. I guess I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.” John noticed the look of hurt that briefly crossed Sherlock’s face, why would he be hurt by John’s statement? Nonetheless, John didn’t want to be the cause of Sherlock hurting. He placed a hand on Sherlock’s, “Hey,”

“No, John I guess you’re right. I never really realised, but I assure you that isn’t what’s going on right now. I genuinely just wanted to spend some time with you away from Baker Street.” The smile John gave him made Sherlock want to take John out on a thousand dates if it would make him smile at him like that again.

John took his hand back and began eating again, his concerns assuaged. The men finished eating making small talk about John’s work at the clinic and Sherlock’s current experiment. And on the way home, they held hands again.


	2. Chapter 2

John unlocked the door to their flat, stepping aside so Sherlock could enter before him.  
“John, that wasn’t necessary. When did you even have the time to put the gift there without me seeing?”  
John closed the door and walked over to where Sherlock stood, “Gift?” He saw there was a gift expertly wrapped under the tree. “Uh, I didn’t Sherlock. Perhaps we should check with Mrs Hudson before opening it.”  
“It isn’t Christmas yet, we have twelve days yet.”  
“Yes, but it could be anything Sherlock. If Mrs Hudson did not leave it I suggest we call Lestrade in.”  
Sherlock frowned, truly baffled, “Why? I doubt Graham left it.”  
John let out a breath of exasperation, “Greg, his name is Greg and no, I don’t think he did. I think he needs to have bomb squad scan it.” John felt awful when he saw the joy fade from Sherlock’s face. If this wasn’t an actual gift and it was something to hurt Sherlock he swore whoever was behind it would pay. They had been having a lovely day. Taking out his phone he called Mrs Hudson. “Yes, hello Mrs Hudson, while Sherlock and I out did you or anyone else bring a gift up to our flat? Uh huh, hmm, I see. Thank you, Mrs Hudson, maybe you should go stay at your sister's after your bridge game, you know, for the holiday. Maybe. Alright, you take care too.”  
“John?” Sherlock hated the sound of his voice right now, it sounded weak and uncertain. “What did Mrs Hudson say?”  
“She said she didn’t give us anything and she left early this morning to run some errands and she is currently at her girlfriend's playing bridge.” John put his phone back in his pocket. “Call Lestrade, now.”  
Sherlock jumped at John’s demand. Pulling his phone out he dialled Lestrade. “This is Sherlock, could you come to the flat right away, and oh, bring bomb disposal just in case.” Sherlock hung up without waiting for a response.  
John’s phone rang. “John speaking. No, he wasn’t joking. We went out and came back to a package under our tree. No, it wasn’t Mrs Hudson. Please hurry.” John hung up the phone, grabbed Sherlock around his bicep and dragged him back out the door. He should’ve sent him back outside to safety as soon as he realised there was a possible threat. What had he been thinking?

 

Sherlock stood outside their flat with John while they waited for Lestrade. “I look ridiculous John.” Sherlock was wearing John’s black leather jacket, he'd already taken his scarf and coat off upstairs and John had refused to let him go back and get them.  
“You look great as usual.”  
Lestrade finally pulled up, lights going but siren's silent thankfully. Jumping out of the car he looked at Sherlock and lifted one eyebrow.  
Pouting Sherlock said, “John won’t let me retrieve mine from the flat.”  
“Ah, where’s the package?”  
“Upstairs.” Lestrade led bomb disposal upstairs to their flat and of course, Sherlock tried to follow.  
“Sherlock you have to wait down here with me.”  
“Why? I live here.” But when Sherlock turned to continue up the stairs he found the way blocked by a technician. “Fine, I’ll wait downstairs.”  
After several tense minutes the technicians started to file out of the flat, the moment the way was clear Sherlock bounded up the stairs to their flat.  
John was right on Sherlock’s heels when they burst into the flat they could tell immediately it was not good. “So no bomb then?” John asked as Lestrade paced back and forth while he ran a hand through his hair.  
“Nope, had it been a bomb this whole thing would have been simpler. Either way, you would’ve ended up calling me in. At least I hope you would’ve.”  
“Why, what is it?” Sherlock inched closer to the box now on the kitchen table. The box was empty except for some writing on the bottom and expertly dribbled red paint. After taking a sniff Sherlock muttered, “Not paint.”  
“What? What is it, Sherlock?” John peeked around Sherlock to see inside the box. “What does it say, I can’t see it clearly from this angle.”  
“On the first day of Christmas-”  
“A Christmas Carol?”  
“Don’t interrupt John. On the first day of Christmas, my true match gave to me, a mystery wrapped beneath a tree.”  
“Maybe you should sing it, Sherlock, it may make more sense that way.”  
Sherlock shot a scathing look at Lestrade. “I guarantee you that's not paint; it's blood. Now, rather it is human blood or animal remains to be seen. And I am also quite sure you won’t find any prints or any other evidence on it unless he wanted me too.”  
“He? What makes you think it’s a he? The rhyme says true match.”  
Sherlock looked at John even as he answered Lestrade, “Is that supposed to mean something? My true match could be a man.”  
“Oh, well I didn’t think you’d be open to that sort of thing. Not necessarily because it’s a bloke I guess, but because you just don’t seem to be interested in a-” Lestrade stopped speaking as he looked at Sherlock and John. Bloody hell, it had been under his nose the whole bloody time. Sherlock was smitten with John. Now, rather John felt the same was to be seen. But John did follow Sherlock around like a lost puppy, he put up with Sherlock’s bad behaviour and did all his fetching. Maybe it was requited after all.

John was staring at the box, but he could feel Sherlock’s gaze on him and Lestrade’s sudden silence had to mean something. Sherlock's last statement had seemed to be directed at him, or it could have been just wishful thinking. “So, it says on the first day of Christmas, should we expect a gift of some sort every day for the next eleven days?”  
“That would seem to be the idea.”  
“How did the perp even get in here?”  
“The door would be my guess.”  
“Well, I know the door, Sherlock. But it doesn’t look like it was jimmied or broken. Does anyone else have a key?”  
“Just myself and Mrs Hudson,” John answered seeing Sherlock was getting to the end of his rope. “And before you ask, Mrs Hudson isn’t in and we suggested that she stay away for the time being. Just in case.”  
Sherlock was snapping photos of the box with John’s camera phone. He made sure to get the box from every angle and to get close-ups of the interior of the box as well. Sliding the phone into his trouser pocket he retrieved a garbage bag and passed it to Lestrade. “Here you go, collect your evidence and then be on your way. I need to figure this out.”

Lestrade sighed dramatically snapped a couple of pictures of the tree, the sitting room in general and the door before collecting the box and leaving.

  
John held out his hand. “What?” Sherlock frowned at him.  
“My phone silly. And how did you even get it?”  
“Easy, I just reached into your pocket and took it.”  
John watched as Sherlock paced over to the couch then dropped into it like a sack of potatoes. Sherlock was still wearing his jacket. It was odd seeing him in it, but he liked it. Even more odd was the fact that Sherlock hadn’t taken it off yet. Normally the first thing Sherlock did upon entering the flat was remove his scarf and then his coat, in that order like clockwork. But here Sherlock lay in his jacket like he hadn’t noticed.  
Sherlock could feel John's gaze on him, he could even feel the man working up the nerve to ask him something. Of god he hoped it wasn’t about the hand holding, that had been nice and he was completely open to repeating that bit if John wanted to but he didn't wish to talk about it. Or maybe he would ask him what he had meant about his true match could be a man. John pretended to be of average intelligence especially to make another feel more comfortable in talking around him, thinking that he was too dim to follow. Or other times where he used his perceived lower intelligence to gather more information to clarify or explicate a topic.

“Sherlock, don’t you want to take off the jacket?”  
Sherlock's eyes popped open, this wasn’t what he was expecting John to ask at all. To be honest John’s jacket was quite comfortable and it smelled like him which was nice too.  
“It’s not that I mind, it’s just you always take your coat off as soon as you come in, I just thought you may be more comfortable.”  
“Kind of you to ask John, but I am very comfortable, your jacket is nice, warm. It’s like being hugged while I’m laying here.”  
John smiled. “If you need a hug you could just ask.”  
Absently Sherlock corrected John, “No, it’s like one continuous hug.”  
“Sooo, it’s like being held?”  
Sherlock turned and looked at John then, “I don’t know.”  
John could feel Sherlock’s sadness and the fact that he was uncomfortable with not knowing so he changed the subject. “You know who sent the package don’t you?”  
“I believe so.”

 

Sherlock fished in his pocket and pulled out John’s phone, it was then that he realized Sherlock never gave it to him. “Sherlock.”  
Ignoring the warning in John’s voice Sherlock said, “I need another set of eyes, come look at this. What do you see here?”  
John squatted down next to the couch and looked at the phone, immediately he saw that Sherlock had downloaded some kind of fancy photo app. “Sherlock! You downloaded an app; that’s money I don’t have.”  
“Calm down John you're good for it, Scotland Yard made a nice sizable deposit into our account this morning. Payment for our last case.”  
John looked at Sherlock and disbelief, he’d done it. He finally did it. “I could kiss you right now!” John blurted out instantly mortified.  
Sherlock without missing a beat shifted his gaze to John’s face and said, “Then why don’t you?” He watched as John wet his lips, most likely done subconsciously.  
John could slap himself. I could _kiss you?_ What on earth had possessed him to say such a thing? Deciding to ignore Sherlock in lieu of actually kissing the detective. Focusing on the picture he squinted, Sherlock had arranged some of the pictures in a collage, “Is that an M? The blood splatter, it forms an M.”  
“Very good John. And who do we know whose name starts with an M?”  
“Moriarty.”  
“Thank heavens you didn’t say Mycroft.”  
John frowned as he thought, “That would mean that not only does Moriarty know where you live, he was in the flat.”  
“Yup,” Sherlock said popping the p and managing to sound bored. “It appears he is rather resourceful, honestly we already knew that, but, he seems to be keen on me as well.”  
John frowned again.  
“Stop frowning John, it doesn’t suit you.”  
“How do you know he is keen?”  
“True match should I remind you.”  
“Not that I think you’re wrong, I mean let's face it you’re far better looking, smarter and just more interesting than me, but how do we know for sure? It wasn’t addressed.”  
“Fair enough, I guess the only thing we have to go on is I have been investigating cases that all seem to involve Moriarty and since I am a detective what other way to say hello, I see you then a mystery especially catered to me?”  
“First off, we solve cases. You’re not alone anymore. I do occasionally help. Second-”  
Sherlock didn’t hear John’s rant, he completely zoned out after he heard the shorter man say he wasn’t alone anymore. The rational side of his brain argued that that was not how John meant it. But the hopeful more romantic part of his brain insisted that it was exactly what John meant and then it took it a step further by calling up images of the two of them holding hands, the way John’s face lit up when he smiled at him.  
“Sherlock? Are you alright?”  
Shaking his head clear Sherlock looked at John. “Yeah, I think I need a moment.”  
“A moment, what does that mean?”  
Sherlock turned his head and looked John in the eyes. He stared at him for a good long moment, long enough to see his eye slowly shift from blue to amber. He tried to get his body to cooperate, he wanted to tell John he needed him but his body was frozen while his mind raced on.  
John was getting worried, Sherlock looked like he wanted to speak but couldn’t, just when John was about to speak to him again he saw Sherlock’s gaze dart down to his lips and linger there before looking away. Today had been truly strange, and Sherlock was in rare form. “Sherlock, can I ask you something?” John watched Sherlock open and close his mouth several times in an attempt to speak finally he simply nodded his head. “Are you sick? Like fatally?”  
Sherlock frowned, “What?” His voice came out scratchy and he cleared it before speaking again. “What on earth are you on about? Why would you think I’m sick?”  
“You have been acting very odd today.” John rushed on to add, “Not that today hasn’t been nice, just a change of pace.”  
Sherlock finally looked away, thinking.  
“Sherlock?”  
“I’m not sick!” He snapped.  
John stood up, groaning as he did. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it then.”

 

John climbed the stairs to his room. Sherlock’s mood had changed drastically, well it had been nice while it lasted. Laying on the bed John threaded his fingers behind his head thinking again about the day. There had been so many chances for him to tell Sherlock how he felt or even to make a move, to simply lean in and kiss him. Had it been one of the many women he’d dated in the past he would have just taken the chance, but with Sherlock it was different, he had to be sure, he didn’t want to ruin their friendship, work and living arrangements all because he had the misfortune of falling in love with his best friend.

Back downstairs Sherlock paced the sitting room berating himself. In hindsight, he saw so many things wrong with his and John’s last conversation. John had been worried about him and how did he repay him? By yelling at him. He would send a text apologizing. Sherlock brought the phone up to begin his message when he realised he still had John’s phone. Sherlock felt awful about his behaviour towards John. Today had been nice and a pleasant change of pace. He wished every day could be like today. Sitting John’s phone down on the tea table next to his chair Sherlock walked to his room and closed the door.


	3. Chapter 3

John came down the next morning intending to have himself some breakfast, but all thoughts off food fled his mind when he caught sight of Sherlock sitting in front of the tree. He was sitting cross-legged with the sheets from his bed haphazardly thrown about him. John would put money on it that Sherlock was completely nude beneath. Clearing his throat John walked closer, “Um, Sherlock, is everything alright?”

Sherlock had been waiting here for John to wake up and come down, but when he’d heard him on the stairs he’d almost bolted. It wasn’t until he heard John that the state of his undress became apparent, and normally he wouldn’t let things like that bother him, but he had been up all night thinking over yesterday. He suspected that John not only cared about him but was in love with him. And now he was feeling panicked and scared. For what he couldn’t say, technically nothing had changed between them, but now Sherlock’s eyes were open. “Good morning John, I was waiting for you.”

“Were you? Why? What’s happened?”

“Another present was delivered last night. I don’t know how they managed, I was up all night.”

“Sherlock, you need your sleep, you’ve been running yourself ragged since you started the last case. Please get up and go get some rest.”

“But we’ve received another present.”

“And it can wait. If you get some rest you’ll be sharper for it.”

 

Sherlock stood up, his back still to John. He’d made up his mind while listening to John fuss over him, he loved John too and he would show him. Turning Sherlock faced John.

John looked at Sherlock, he looked horribly tired, his eyes and nose were red and he was staring at John in a way he’d never done before, honestly, it scared John. He watched as Sherlock squared his shoulders and met his gaze. Unconsciously he took a step back.

Sherlock saw John take a step back, probably trying to get out of his way, but he advanced further, quickly stepping into John he lowered his head and kissed him. Sherlock’s mind blanked and all he could do was take in every sensation of his lips touching John’s, his hands on John’s shoulders. John shaking.

John was so shocked by Sherlock’s actions he didn’t say or do anything, he simply stood there while Sherlock gently kissed him. Sherlock was bloody kissing him. John panicked and stepped back bumping into the arm of Sherlock’s chair, nearly falling over it. “What- what are you doing?” John touched his fingers to his lips looking up at Sherlock with huge uncomprehending eyes, and then he bolted.

Sherlock watched in horror as John raced out of the flat and down the stairs. What had he done? What on Earth had ever made him kiss John? Sherlock hoped he hadn’t gone and ruined the only true friendship he'd ever had. Anguished Sherlock retreated to his own room slamming the door behind him.

John's sat on the steps leading up to their flat breathing hard in disbelief of what had just transpired between him and Sherlock. His reaction to the kiss was less than desirable and he felt awful about it now, Sherlock would surely think that he hadn’t enjoyed or even wanted the kiss; and that couldn't be further away from the truth. Sherlock is probably upstairs right now beating himself up over the risk, he didn’t take personal risk, emotional risk. John was still in his dressing gown and he couldn't leave the flat so he would have to go back upstairs and talk to his best friend and explain to him that it wasn't that he didn't want him or love him but it was a simple fact that he’d never thought that he would have this opportunity and he’d panicked. And he was very sorry.

 

Back upstairs Sherlock sat crossed legged with his back against his bedroom door. His hands were steepled beneath his chin as he sat quietly pondering his current situation. It was unheard of, him foregoing the advancement of a promising case in lieu of personal problems slash gratification. Maybe he _was_ sick? Perhaps he should have Mycroft get that doctor friend of his to scan his brain for abnormalities.

 Sherlock was unsure of how much time had passed between coming in his room and the hesitant knock that now sounded on his bedroom door.

“Sherlock, can I come in?”

Sherlock didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face John’s rejection head-on. “No.” He drew out the word, saying it slowly and precisely so there was no mistaking what was said.

“Please, Sherlock, just let me in, to explain.”

Sherlock remained quiet and where he was. Nope, he was definitely not ready.

 

John tried the door, it was met with some resistance. “Sherlock, get up. Let me in.” Sherlock’s continued silence worried John, perhaps he had done irreparable damage. Kneeling down, John spoke into the crack he had managed in the door. “Sherlock I’m sorry. I reacted badly and I want to explain.” When still no words came from his usually dramatic friend John pressed on. “I was caught off guard with the kiss Sherlock. I ran because- well, because I’m a sodding idiot. When you kissed me all rational thought fled, I couldn’t believe it was happening, that we were finally happening. Do you understand Sherlock? I panicked!”

Sherlock’s mind scrambled to comprehend what John was telling him. This was not what he had expected to hear.

“Please Sherlock, we could start this day over. Either act like it never happened, or- we can go back out to the sitting room, try it all again or look at the damned present. I promise not to react badly.”

Sherlock thought about what John was telling him. Standing up Sherlock opened the door, John nearly falling at his feet. “Promise?”

John strsightened quickly, very unsure of which avenue Sherlock was leaning towards. Either way, he would honour Sherlock's wishes. “Promise.” He answered solemnly.

Sherlock stepped out of the room and straight into John.

John had no time to react before Sherlock’s lips were pressed against his for the second time today. Both men kept their hands to their sides, letting only their lips do the caressing.

When Sherlock pulled away, he was pleased to see John's eyes were closed, and he had a goofy half smile on his face. He leaned in and kissed him again, placing a hand on the side of John’s face, caressing.

John sighed and buried his hand in Sherlock’s sheet, deepening the kiss. John marvelled in the knowledge he was kissing Sherlock Holmes, as their tongues touched tentatively, dancing together and away again.

After several glorious minutes, Sherlock pulled firmly away from John, this time when he looked down at his companion he saw John was looking up at him with a serious look etched on his face. “What’s wrong?” He asked, noticing his voice had gone deep and gravelly. Clearing his throat he prepared to ask again.

“Nothing. Everything's perfect.” It was but a whisper, but Sherlock heard him loud and clear.

 

He took John’s hand and lead him back to the Christmas tree; sitting down again in his previous spot he pulled John down beside him. “Let’s get on with it then.”

This package was about the same size as the other a perfect square wrapped well- perfectly.

“Wait, Sherlock! Let me grab my phone so we can take pictures before you open it, and of the contents.”

“Your phone’s on the table, I already took pictures of the sitting room and the package. Again no sign of forced entry and Mrs Hudson is with her sister.”

“So we have ourselves a little locked door mystery.”

Sherlock looked at John, he smiled nodding, “I suppose we do.” A thought occurred to Sherlock then, perhaps this was all John. Perhaps he was providing Sherlock with a fake case for Christmas. He opened the package while John documented it. Inside were just three items. Two, disturbing pictures as today's rhyme said. Today's message wasn’t scribbled in the bottom of the box but on a piece of cream coloured vellum paper.

 

**_On the 2nd day of Christmas, my true match gave to me, 2 disturbing pictures and a mystery wrapped beneath a tree._ **

 

Sherlock reached in pulling out the pictures. The first picture showed John and Sherlock walking hand in hand, it was from their walk the day before. Sherlock was staring straight ahead while John looked up at Sherlock. If Sherlock had seen this look on anyone else's face he would have immediately deduced that that person was completely and utterly besotted. So- Sherlock glanced quickly at John, did this mean John was besotted with him?

John looked at the picture. Wow, his feelings were all over his face. He looked a fool, so in love with Sherlock. And if the quick look Sherlock just shot him was anything to go by he saw it too. Sherlock shuffled to the next picture, it was indeed disturbing. There was a person, perhaps a small man. He was pictured laying on what looked to be a concrete floor, perhaps a warehouse.

Sherlock’s mind wasn’t processing the picture in front of him. All he saw was the previous picture and the look on John’s face.

“He’s been injured.”

Sherlock shook his head and turned to look at John, “Huh?”

“The man, there, see he’s hurt. Let me see the picture.”

Sherlock passed the picture to John and watched as he jumped to his feet, grabbing the magnifying glass from the desk. While John studied the picture Sherlock turned his attention back to the one in his hand. Had John paid someone to take the picture of them? He should have it framed. Sherlock caressed John’s image. He hoped the look meant what he thought. “I don’t understand why this picture would be considered disturbing.”

John looked down where Sherlock sat, he was staring at the first picture. Maybe he didn’t see the look after all. Because to John, he could understand why someone would think his complete focus on Sherlock was disturbing. Instead of voicing that opinion he said, “Well, obviously someone was following us yesterday Sherlock, that is disturbing, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I suppose, but it’s a good picture.”

“Maybe it’s disturbing to Moriarty because he sees you as his. And despite what we know that pictures seem to say you aren’t available.”

Sherlock seemed to think about that, after a moment he stood up and approached John at the desk. “Show me.”

John knew Sherlock well enough to know he had regressed to their previous topic. He passed Sherlock the picture noticing when Sherlock slid the picture of them between the sheet and his chest. He would have liked to get a better look at that picture as well.

Sherlock looked at the picture of the other person really for the first time. He noticed for the first time the environment and the condition of the person, he wasn’t quite sure if it was a man or woman. Sherlock thought he saw what John had to assume the person had been hurt. To be sure he put his hand out and John immediately put the magnifying glass in it. Holding it over the picture he focused on the visible features, the person was photographed at such an angle it was almost impossible to see the face.

Sherlock looked at the picture for a long while and when he sat the magnifying glass down but stared out into space instead of giving his rundown of the clue John became just a little worried. “Sherlock, what is it?”

Sherlock passed the picture back to John. “Look at the man, really look at him. You thought the man had been injured, it’s true there is an injury there but it’s been made to look like it was self-inflicted.” Sherlock waited for John to see the obvious.

“What is it you want me to see Sherlock?”

Turning Sherlock looked at John, “He is supposed to look like you.”

John scowled and looked at the picture again. It took him awhile before he actually saw it. The man was laying on his back with a cane just out of reach. Again, the angle of the picture made it hard to make everything out and initially the cane had looked like debris. But now John saw it clearly, the man was dressed very similarly to his usual style. And even though John no longer used a cane, it was added to drive home the similarities. Now that John was looking at this man as a mirror for himself he knew the man was injured but not by his own hand. It was made to look like a suicide attempt but John seriously doubted the man tried to commit suicide and Moriarty just happened to be in the area and available to take photos.

“John? I see your brain working, what are you thinking?”

“I suppose we will have to wait until tomorrow to find out what these pictures mean.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well this is obviously a play on the song The Twelve Days of Christmas, there is a progression to the story, Moriarty is smart, at least as smart as you. He is going to want to draw it out and not make it too easy for you. He’s only given us part of the puzzle, so, we’ll get more of it tomorrow.”


	4. Chapter 4

John set about making his breakfast. He moved about the kitchen on autopilot, his mind wasn’t interested in anything but playing the kiss over and over again in his head. The kiss had been marvellous. Sherlock stepped up next to him and he smiled automatically. “Would you like something to eat?”  
Sherlock noticed John wasn’t looking him in the eyes but at his mouth. “Sure.” After a moment, once John had gone back to cooking Sherlock asked, “How was the kiss, John? Was it-satisfactory?”  
John’s hand slipped and the egg he had been about to crack open slipped into the bowl whole. Leaving the egg where it was for the time being John turned to Sherlock, “Excuse me?”  
“Was the kiss good?”  
John gave a small smile, his eyes dipping to Sherlock’s lips again. “It was bloody brilliant.”  
“Oh. Good.”

Sherlock leaned against the worktop watching while John cooked up a couple of omelettes for them. John was very efficient when it came to the mundane everyday things. It was one of the things that endeared Sherlock to him. He wasn’t an awkward, socially inept fool like himself. Normally John Watson was a confident, short-fused, socially competent member of society. He helped Sherlock in all his shortcomings. Sherlock just wasn’t good at all the social intricacies; making sure he was politically correct, plus trying to remember to emotionally and verbally hold people's hands so as not to hurt their feelings. It was all exhausting; Sherlock preferred to cut straight to the chase and not dilly dally around niceties. John was the only person in his short history that made him want to pause and think before blurting out what first popped up in his mind. And even in his desire to do so, Sherlock still apparently made heaps of mistakes; insulting John when he only meant to compliment. So on and so forth.

“Sherlock?”  
“Hmm?”  
“Can you put on some toast?”  
Without a response, Sherlock moved off to do as asked. His mind was still preoccupied with the jarring changes John Watson had either induced in him or brought to his life.   
John could see Sherlock was lost in thought and it wasn’t about a case. After plating their omelettes John stepped over to where Sherlock was standing and slipped his arms around his waist, resting his chin against his back. He felt Sherlock stiffen, maybe he was moving to fast for the brilliant detective. “You alright Sherlock?”  
“Um hmm. Just- unexpected.”  
“How’s the toast coming along?”  
Sherlock pulled the toast out tossing them on the plates John had provided.   
Releasing Sherlock, John carried the plates to the table and sat down, waiting for Sherlock to get all the excess fabric wrapped around him so he too could sit. Only once Sherlock had picked up his fork, did John do so as well.

They ate for several minutes in silence.  
“Sherlock,”  
“Mmm?”  
“After we’ve had breakfast I would like to maybe sit and discuss the case a bit.”  
Sherlock stopped eating and looked up at John through his lashes. John never really jumped at working cases. He was usually more concerned with keeping them safe and only became more invested when he knew exactly what was at stake. They had yet to find out the stakes, so this helped to further cement the idea that John was behind this case, not Moriarty. “John, did you fabricate this case as a gift to me?”  
“What? No. Why would I do that?”  
Sherlock looked away, feeling vulnerable, “Because you care for me. And you know I like a good locked-door mystery.”  
John stared at Sherlock dumbfounded, “Seriously? I didn’t. Why- What made you even come to this conclusion?”  
Sherlock ticked off reasons on his fingers, “You recognised the M without me telling you. The rhyme said ‘My one true match’. The bloke in the photo looks like you. The photo of us- I still don’t see how that’s disturbing. And you want to talk about the case. You never want to talk about the case this early in.”  
John’s mouth hung open. Everything that Sherlock had just named was good reasons to think he was behind it, but he really wasn’t. “You think I’m your one true match?” Sherlock had been watching him but at his question, he ducked his head and shovelled a forkful of egg into his mouth. John crossed his hands in front of his face, he found Sherlock’s evasion of his question humorous. “Sherlock?”  
Sherlock mumbled something as he took a bite of his toast. Smiling John stood up and poured them each a glass of orange juice. Sitting back down he picked up his own fork and answered his own question, “‘Course I am, no one else can put up with you like I can.”

They finished their meal in silence, Sherlock brooding over whatever he was brooding over and John reading the paper.  
Sherlock looked at John reading the paper as he always did and he was struck with the normality of their current actions. Nothing had changed with the kiss, John still ate breakfast every morning while reading the paper. And Sherlock still joined him rather he was eating or not. Things were exactly the same. Except they weren’t. In Sherlock’s eyes, things had changed drastically. He felt like if they were to walk outside right this instance everyone would be able to look at them and tell. “John,”  
“Hmm?”  
“Are we a couple?”  
John responded without putting his paper down, “Would you like us to be?”  
Sherlock was quiet for several minutes. John didn’t take it badly, he just kept reading his paper waiting for Sherlock to decide. He knew Sherlock often acted on impulses and whims, sometimes not thinking a situation all the way through. He imagined that Sherlock was now actually thinking the whole thing through. What it would mean for both of them. The changes that would come and the explanations. John sat the paper down and took Sherlock’s hand in his own. He didn’t say anything at first. He waited for Sherlock to look up from their hands to his face. “We don’t have to be. We don’t have to put a name to it. We can just be us.”  
Sherlock liked the way that sounded. “Okay. Can we talk about the case now?”  
“‘Course.”

John stood and gathered their plates depositing them in the sink before following behind Sherlock to the sitting room.   
Sherlock had sat in his usual chair but John instead of sitting across from him sat on the couch.   
“John?”  
“Come sit over here with me Sherlock, let's see if I can’t show you how it feels to be held.”   
Sherlock stiffened. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. They had kissed, and sure he wouldn’t mind doing it again, but weren't they moving too fast?   
John saw the look of panic cross Sherlock’s face. He didn’t want him to feel overwhelmed or pressured to do something he didn’t want to. They would get to that eventually.

John got up and sat in his chair across from Sherlock, and when Sherlock gave him a questioning look he just smiled. “Alright then. This is what we know. I did not set this up as a joke or a gift; we can assume Moriarty is behind this; we can also assume that we will be receiving ten more packages. Oh, and there's the fact that someone is getting into the flat undetected and we were followed yesterday. That about covers it, hmm?”  
“On the surface yes. I think the photo of the man made to look like you may be a threat if you really didn’t set this up.”  
“I didn’t”  
“Well, as you said we really don’t have much to go on yet; I suppose we do need to wait until we get more information. But to be proactive about the whole thing I will set up surveillance and search the sitting room and stairs for clues.”   
“Alright, and I will check the newspaper and the internet for clues.  
Sherlock went off to his room, he would need to put on proper attire if he was going to be crawling around and climbing ladders.

John in the meantime retrieved the newspaper from the kitchen table. Sitting back down in his chair he proceeded to comb through the paper looking for any mention of missing persons, deaths or John Does. And now that he was thinking about it, perhaps they could ask Lestrade about any new weird or unsolved murders or kidnappings.

Sherlock came back out now fully dressed and feeling more confident. John was reading the paper and he was scowling like he often did when he was deep in thought. Sherlock thought it was very John and cute, dare he admit it. Forcing himself to walk past the scowling doctor he opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a couple of left-over surveillance cameras. He had found them in the flat roughly six months ago. Sherlock was sure his brother was the one to thank for this generous donation of three state-of-the-art security cameras now reconfigured to transmit video directly to John’s laptop instead of some remote unknown location. Sherlock smiled, thinking about how pissed his brother must have been when he realized Sherlock had found and disconnected the cameras.   
John stopped reading and looked at Sherlock as he worked now fully dressed. “I guess we have a use for those cameras after all.”  
“That we do.” Sherlock set about setting the camera’s up, one facing the window, one facing the flat door and the last one he took in the hall so that it had a view of the stairs. “John be a dear and fetch your laptop, I need to make sure the feed is still going to your laptop and recording.”

John set the newspaper aside and did as asked, handing his laptop over without a single word.   
Sherlock felt John standing over him, his eyes were burning a hole in him. “Is something wrong John?”  
“Uh, no. Nothing.”  
“Then why are you standing over me?”  
John quickly sat back down in his seat and picked up the paper again. He was glad Sherlock wasn’t allowing the kiss to make things awkward between them, he was being his normal acerbic self. Honestly, John just really wanted to kiss Sherlock again and he was a bit cranky. Things seemed to be back to normal, John was scared of rejection and Sherlock seemed unapproachable. John pulled out a notepad and wrote down a couple of points of interest from the paper. Naturally, he would have Sherlock look it over but he couldn’t seem to move past the kiss. “You kissed _me_ first, Sherlock.”  
Sherlock had been settled down on the floor facing the Christmas tree thinking, it took him a moment to comprehend what John had said. “Yes, that’s true, what’s your point?”  
“My point is I don’t know where I stand with you now. I don’t want things to be weird or for you to feel like I’m pressuring you, but I have _really_ wanted this for a long time. Like _really_.”  
“ _O-Kay_...I’m still not sure I see your point.”  
Exasperated John slowly got up from his seat, passing the notepad to Sherlock. “You’re right. No point at all. Look this over will ya? And I will search the internet.” John proceeded to his room taking his laptop.

Sherlock sat staring after John long after he had disappeared. What had just happened? John was trying to tell him something, he was sure of it, but what exactly was he getting at? He brushed it aside long enough to untangle himself from his spot on the floor and retreat to his room. He needed to review the list John gave him but first he had a call to make.

In his bedroom, he perched on the corner of his bed. He didn’t really want to make this call but he recognised the fact that he was out of his depths. He dialled a number and waited for it to be picked up, the moment he heard Lestrade's friendly concerned voice asking was everything alright he blurted, “I kissed John.”  
Lestrade was stunned into silence.  
Sherlock looked at the phone to make sure they hadn’t been disconnected, they hadn’t. “Lestrade! Did you hear what I said?”  
“Uh, sorry. Yeah, yeah.” Greg knew Sherlock wouldn’t be calling him if everything had gone smoothly so he asked, “And how did John react?”  
“He ran away.” At Lestrade's gasp, he hurriedly added, “But he can back and apologised for running away and he let me kiss him again. Then he made us breakfast.”  
“Okay, and?”  
“Well, that’s when it gets- odd.”  
“How so?”  
“Well, we were going to discuss the case and John tried to get me to sit with him, he said so he could hold me.”  
“And did you let him?”  
“God no! That would’ve been _weird_.”  
“So what else happened?”  
“John pointed out that I kissed him first. And when I asked him what was his point, he went to his room. Can you tell me what I did wrong?”  
“Let’s see if I got all the facts straight. First, you kiss John, he panics and runs off only to come back, he apologises and lets you kiss him again.”  
“Correct.”  
“And then he fixes breakfast for you two. Afterwards, he offers to hold you while you talk, in which you decline.”  
“Not exactly. I never actually said anything, but my face must’ve told him I was not inclined to accept.”  
Lestrade tsked at him before continuing. “I am assuming you two discussed the case a bit before he brought up you kissing him.”  
“Correct, you are in rare form today detective.”  
“Well, there’s your problem right there Sherlock, you’re running hot and cold, one moment you seem interested and available and the next you’re you, being a right arse. The poor bloke probably doesn’t know where he stands with you, how he should handle you.”  
“He did say he didn’t know where he stood with me. But what do you mean how to handle me?”  
“You’ve seen John with his girlfriends, he's the affectionate sort. He likes holding hands and hugging and snogging and all the things couples do that show they care.”  
“But we’re not a couple.”  
“Well, if you have a habit of randomly kissing people you might want to tell John so he doesn’t get the wrong idea.”  
“I just want things to stay the same between John and me, but I want to be able to kiss him and hold his hand whenever I feel like it.”  
“No! That sends mixed signals. John is not a plaything that you can use whenever you want, he has feelings too. When you care about a person enough to want to kiss and hold hands there is a natural progression to things. You hold that person in higher esteem than others, you start to consider their feelings just as you consider your own. If you only want a physical relationship with John, tell him. Otherwise, you need to get your head out of your arse and get with the program.” When Sherlock remained quiet Lestrade let out a sigh, “Look, relationships can be scary, feelings can be scary. But you already have both you just need to acknowledge it and nurture them.”  
“What do you mean, I have both?”  
“You and John have been living together since you met. You work together, eat together, you have a joint bank account and you both even hate the same people.” Sherlock chuckled at that. “And if you told me right now that you weren’t in love with John I’d call you a liar. I see the way you look at each other. I was a bit slow and didn’t put two and two together until yesterday, but it's obvious.”  
“So what you’re saying is me and John are already in a relationship, the only thing missing is the intimacy?”  
“No, the only thing missing is the physical intimacy. And maybe the acknowledgement of the relationship.”  
“Thank you, Greg. You have been very helpful.”  
“You got my name right!”  
“‘Course I got your name right. Thanks again.”

Sherlock hung up before Lestrade could say anything further. Who would’ve thought Lestrade was as insightful as he had proven to be.   
Sherlock stood up and began to pace. In retrospect, the D.I. had been absolutely correct. John no longer dated, he hadn’t done so in well over a year. No women came around and John hadn’t been on any dates, if he had, Sherlock would have known about it. They did indeed buy and fix food together, work together, dislike the same people and generally did everything together. Kissing John had opened the door for them to do everything together. Like, sleep together...Sherlock stopped his pacing to mentally correct himself. He, of course, hadn’t meant sex, he had meant the actual act of sleeping in the same bed. And if they ever felt so inclined to take their relationship further, they could, because that door was now open. But Sherlock knew he had upset John, he still wasn’t quite sure what John had been getting at, but he did know he’d upset his friend in some way. Mentally brushing it all aside Sherlock picked up John’s notepad. He had work to do.


	5. Chapter 5

John woke up confused. He remembered going to bed the night before. In his bed. Alone. But he was certain that that was a cold nose pressed against his back. And cold hands and feet burrowed beneath him. Rolling over John faced Sherlock. Sherlock was staring at him.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Let’s go, John! It’s morning and another present was left last night! Up! Up! We have to review the surveillance footage and open the gift!”

John sighed and turned back over giving Sherlock his back. The sun wasn’t even up yet and he’d be damned if he got up this early.

Sherlock stared at John’s back. Was he ignoring him? Was this a joke? “John? Are you coming?”

“Nooo, Sherlock! I’m going to try to go back to sleep. You’re welcome to stay, I’m sure you’ve been up all night.”

Sherlock blinked slowly. So John wasn’t going to come. Well, he didn’t want to open the next clue or watch the video by himself, half the fun was having John to discuss the case with and the other half was having John stare up at him as if he was the most brilliant man to walk this planet. Sherlock decided to settle in beside John, perhaps he would allow him an hour more.

 

John woke for the second time that morning with someone in his bed. But this time Sherlock had John captured in his arms while he slept. John was on his back with one arm extended above their heads, Sherlock was firmly against that side, his arm wrapped tightly around John’s waist. His mouth was partly open and a soft snore was being emitted. John couldn’t help but smile down at his flatmate, he looked adorable sleeping. John brought down his arm to settle around Sherlock's shoulders and the detective snuggled in closer.

Sighing John couldn’t deny how content he was in the moment. In the back of his mind he knew he needed to give Sherlock time to acclimate himself to being a part of a couple, and hopefully, perhaps slowly he would open up more and allow John closer. But, at the same time, John felt impatient. He’d waited so long to be with Sherlock, now that the chance was here he just wanted to jump in doing all the things he had only dreamed about before. Logically he knew if he pushed, Sherlock would most likely retreat and he’d lose him. But it stung when Sherlock seemed to reject him, like earlier when he’d offered to hold him. Yet Sherlock was now in his bed cuddling, what was he supposed to think? He might get whiplash dating Sherlock Holmes.

 

Sherlock woke up deliciously warm. Stretching he wiped at his mouth, he had been drooling. It was then that he remembered where he was, John’s bed. Glancing over quickly he saw John smiling at him.

“Good morning gorgeous.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened. Looking down, sure enough, there was a small puddle of saliva on John’s chest that dripped down to pool on the bed. “So sorry ‘bout that,” Sherlock stated as he sat up, not making eye contact.

John started to make an inappropriate comment about choice places Sherlock could have chosen to drool but decided against it when he remembered how freaked out Sherlock had look at the mere mention of cuddling.

“Why are you up here again?” John smiled in spite of his previously hurt feelings, Sherlock sat there head cocked to the side, hair amuck and his eyes closed, practically sleep while he sat on John’s bed. John had gotten enough sleep, he’d gone to bed at a decent hour, but it was clear that Sherlock needed more sleep. Getting up John manoeuvred Sherlock back onto his side, tucking the bed sheets and the blanket around him.

 

John quietly sat about starting his day. Grabbing clothes and shoes he went downstairs to have a shower and he was needing to get to the clinic and put in a leave of absence. He didn’t want to quit in case he and Sherlock’s working arrangements didn’t work out. Once dressed John grabbed his laptop opening it up while he sipped a cup of coffee. He knew Sherlock would want to review the surveillance together but he was getting ready to leave and he couldn’t do so with a clear mind until he'd made sure Moriarty hadn’t left any dangerous surprises behind.

John was just closing up the surveillance program on his laptop when he heard Sherlock approaching from behind.

Sherlock was half asleep still; he’d woke up cold, and his body went in search of the escaped warmth.

John stiffened at the feel of Sherlock's arms encircling his shoulders. A heartbeat later he felt two cool lips press against his neck.

“Morning.” Sherlock's voice was scratchy and heavy with sleep. “You couldn’t wait for me? I waited for you.”

John chuckled even though he couldn't see Sherlock’s face he could actually hear the pout he was sporting. Patting Sherlock’s hand he turned around. “I have to step out for about an hour, I wanted to make sure he hadn’t left any nasty surprises.”

“Going to put in your leave of absence?”

John was still amazed how easily Sherlock could read people. “Yes. And I’ll be right back. Lay back down and we can open the box when I get back. Deal?”

Sherlock pouted harder, his bottom lip extending even more than before.

John stood up placing his hands on Sherlock's arms, “Hey, hey, none of that.” Once Sherlock stopped pouting John smiled. “I’m going to kiss you now, is that okay?”

Sherlock glanced at John’s lips, of course, it was okay, why on earth was John asking? He thought they had moved past all this. Kissing was on the okay list. He nodded his consent.

Sighing John let his fingertips play in the curls at the back of Sherlock’s head as he guided him down to meet his lips. He’d only meant to brush their lips together briefly, a perfectly chaste kiss to say ‘see you later’. But the moment Sherlock sighed against him, John felt like a wildfire had taken hold of his body.

Sherlock sighed as he felt John’s lips touch his. It had felt like his body had been waiting on this, starving and John’s mouth was the only place to seek sustenance. Sherlock opened his mouth, giving John permission to fully explore.

John fisted his hands in the front of Sherlock’s pyjama top, dragging his body closer.

Sherlock moaned. John tasted good, he felt good against him. But he also felt like an idiot, he’d been missing out on this for how long? Sherlock wrapped his arms around John trying to pull him even closer. 

Abruptly John stepped away from Sherlock.

“What? What’s the matter? Did I do something wrong?”

John’s breathing was ragged. “No. But a moment longer and I would’ve had you beneath me. I’ll be back.” John moved as to kiss him again, but turned and left instead.

Sherlock had to sit down. The kiss and John’s words had him feeling dizzy. His stomach suddenly felt like a rodent was running around on a play wheel. Walking over to the couch Sherlock dropped into it hard, pulling his legs up beneath him. He would wait for John here.

 

John had been gone a little longer than he had intended but he had stopped to pick up some food from the grocer's. He wouldn’t be surprised if Sherlock had already opened the box and was halfway to a theory. But when he walked in the door Sherlock was half laying half sitting up asleep on the couch. John approached, bending low to brush a kiss across Sherlock’s upturned lips. It seemed to him that Sherlock’s lips had been made for kissing. John stood up before he could give in to the desire to kiss the sleeping man again.

 Grabbing the afghan from the back of the couch John covered Sherlock’s sleeping form with it. Deciding to do something useful instead of staring at Sherlock, John put the food away and then set about making them some breakfast. If this was to be his new duty while working strictly with Sherlock he could live with that. At least this way John could keep a closer eye on Sherlock's eating habits.

 

Sherlock came awake to a delicious smell coming from the kitchen. John. He could get used to having the doctor home and to himself. A lot of times he didn’t eat simply because he couldn’t be bothered to make himself something. _Coffee_. The glorious smell of coffee hit him, he needed coffee now. Sherlock stumbled into the kitchen, his eyes squinted, fighting against the onslaught of the bright light. He shuffled over to where he was sure a John shaped shadow stood. He closed his eyes and lowered his head until it made contact, taking a deep breath, yes this was _his_ John. “Johnnn.”

“Something you needed Sherlock? I can’t cook like this you know, and your breath is tickling my scalp.”

“Coffee.”

John chuckled and turned around herding Sherlock over to an empty chair. “Sit. I’ll get you coffee, but I imagine you should still be in bed. You seem to be very tired, you couldn’t have gotten much sleep.”

“I would have if you hadn’t gotten up.”

John had gone back to cooking. “So is that the secret of it then? I have to drag you to bed with me to make sure you get any sleep?”

Sherlock thought about it. Sleeping next to John had been, well nice. He could get used to it. And if ever he needed a break he could always disappear back to his room.

“Relax Sherlock, I was only having a joke.”

“No, no. I think I shall like to give it a go. Starting tonight.”

John wasn’t about to stare a gift horse in the mouth, he would take this win and not think too much of it. Turning the bacon one last time he grabbed a mug and fixed Sherlock’s coffee just the way he like and then turned and passed it to him.

“Here ya go.”

“Hmm. Everything smells great; although you didn’t have to cook all of this.”

“If I’m going to be here more the least I can do is pull my own weight. I can cook and I shall. You do all the heavy lifting anyway,” he motioned towards Sherlock's head, “It's semi-fair.”

Sherlock looked at John in shock. “It’s more than fair. You contribute to the solving of the cases just as much as I do.”

“Sherlock.”

“You do! If it weren’t for you I don’t think I would solve nearly as many as I do.”

“Really?” John began plating the food. He had cooked eggs, bacon, fried tomatoes, fried bread and baked beans.

“Yes! If it wasn’t for all your wrong idea’s helping me to rule out the clearly absurd I would waste precious time dismissing them myself.”

John was used to Sherlock’s double-edged compliments. “Is that all that I am? A bin for all the bad ideas?”

“No. Talking about the case as it’s happening helps me see the broader picture. Also, you tend to notice the things I do not. We’re a great team. If you’re going to endeavour to cook more, I shall just have to try to eat more.” Sherlock laughed and John smiled.

 

This was nice, sitting all domestic like eating and chatting it up. Without putting too much thought into his actions Sherlock swung his feet up and placed them in John’s lap.

Shocked John nearly dropped his spoon at the contact. When Sherlock just kept right on eating he did the same, absently stroking an ankle.

 

Sherlock was stuffed and didn’t want to move. John was massaging his feet beneath the table and it was true he hadn’t gotten much sleep. It all combined to make him very lazy and compliant.

John gently lowered Sherlock’s feet to the floor. “Come on, we have a mystery to solve.” John took Sherlock by the hand pulling him along to the sitting room. “Couch.” John pointed and Sherlock obeyed curling up. John retrieved the gift box and his laptop before sitting next to Sherlock on the couch. “Would you like to review the video?”

Sherlock yawned. “Did you see anything out of the ordinary?”

“Only a very posh man walking through our flat door like he had a key and owned the place.”

“Posh? He would have to be, a consulting criminal can’t get business if he doesn’t look the part of a businessman.”

“Uh yeah.”

Sherlock scooted over so that his head was in John’s lap.

“Sherlock, are you going to go back to sleep?”

“Mmm, no.”

“Alright then, do you want to do the honours?”

“No. You do it.”

John gave a small sigh as he reached for the box.

“John,”

“Hmm?”

“Do you have your phone? We’re gonna need pictures.”

“For that, I would need you to sit up.”

“That’s okay. We can take pictures later.”

“Sherlock, if you get up and allow me to retrieve my phone I’ll do you one better than your head in my lap. I can’t believe I just said that.”

Sherlock turned so that he could look up at John, “Better how?”

“You’ll just have to trust me on this Sherlock. But I promise it is better.”

“Fine. Go grab your phone. You left it on the kitchen table.”

“What, and you couldn’t be bothered to tell me to grab it then?”

“If I had I wouldn’t know there was something better in store for me.” Sherlock sat up allowing John to get up and get his phone. But instead of sitting back down John proceeded to snap pictures of the outside of the box.

“Open it please Sherlock.”

Sherlock complied with a pout.

“You know, I never really realised how much you pout when you don’t get your way Sherlock, you’re like a bloody kid.”

Sherlock stuck his tongue out at John and then smiled to show he was just joking. Sherlock pulled the bow apart and lifted the top off of the box. Directly inside was the next line of the song.

 

**On the 3rd day of Christmas, my true match gave to me 3 missing persons.**

 

Sherlock waited until John had snapped several pictures before lifting the vellum paper out followed by several sheets of tissue paper. Beneath the tissue paper, a gruesome sight awaited them. John almost dropped the phone while Sherlock stared down at what remained in the box. “Pass me the phone John.” Most people would think badly of John and his reaction to the boxes contents, they would argue he had been a doctor, sights as such shouldn’t bother him. But what most people failed to remember was John was an army doctor, he saw injuries that would pale the face of any seasoned surgeon and not only that, John himself had been injured while in the line of duty; had witnessed friends getting hurt and worse, dying. When John saw wounds, Sherlock was certain he flashed back to other wounds he had helped fix and even some he could do nothing for.

Sherlock snapped several pictures before pulling out the first neatly vacuumed sealed baggie. It held a newly liberated metal prosthetic hip joint. Fresh blood was still on the item. Next out was another baggie but this one had steel rods also covered in blood, and last but not least the final bag held a glass eye.

John circled around the table and dropped onto the couch beside Sherlock shaking as he reached for the eye.

“What is it, John? Are you alright?”

“I- I know that eye. I-I mean I know who it belongs to. Dear God.” John reached past the eye and snatched his phone from Sherlock’s fingers searching frantically through his contacts. There, pressing the talk button John held his breath while he waited for someone to pick up. No one did. Instead of a pleasant message asking callers to leave a message, there was only a cold detached beep. John let the phone slipped from his hand to the table.

Sherlock glanced at the phone to see who it was John had so desperately needed to reach. _Sholto_.

 

Sherlock's hands hovered above John’s shoulders, he wanted to console his friend but he wasn’t quite sure how to help. Gently and hesitantly Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and pulled him close. For minutes he said nothing as John had his moment. He wasn’t crying but he was obviously very upset which led Sherlock to believe this Sholto character was either a very close friend or family member. But if any of that was true Sherlock would've heard the name before, right? Unless Sholto was apart of John’s military past, the was the only real area they didn’t discuss. “John,” Sherlock placed a kissed on the top of John’s bent head. “Who is Sholto?" There was no response. "We need to pull ourselves together, the rhyme said _missing_ persons, not dead.”

John lifted his head and looked at the man who held him, who was trying so hard to console him. He loved him all the more for it. Sherlock had never been held and John would bet money that he had never allowed anyone to console him when he was upset, yet here he was. John kissed Sherlock quickly showing his gratitude before standing up to pace. “Sholto, who is Sholto. The easy answer, and the answer I give anyone who asks, he was my old commanding officer.”

Sherlock felt there was more, “How were you able to tell that was his eye? A lot of people have blue eyes.”

“I uh, I was with him when he got fitted for it and I even helped pick it out. Sholto had led a group of crows, new recruits, out and something went wrong, nobody knows for sure what happened, only that there was some sort of explosion, and although Sholto was the only survivor, he was badly injured. Half his body was severely burned, he has to walk with a cane now and he lost the use of his right eye. Honestly most people never even realize it’s fake.”

Sherlock waited.

“I was _with_ Sholto when this happened. Sholto was my first-, he was my first and only male partner until you.”

“Ah, so now I understand your hesitation, you’ve kept in touch with him then. Don't worry, we’ll get him back John.”

John looked over at Sherlock, feeling a bit panicked. “You understand, he is just a _past_ lover, a friend only?” Sherlock nodded. “I mean it, Sherlock, you’re the only one I want and love.” John mentally slapped himself for mentioning the L word, he didn’t want to spook Sherlock.

“Nonsense John, I am not unreasonable. I know as he is your friend, he still has some of your affection. But sit down, let’s discuss these items. You are my biggest clue on this one.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger warning* Talks of suicide and sexual assault.

John had a hand in his hair slightly tugging. Lestrade was here taking a statement and picking up the prosthetics. Sherlock was leaned against John holding his free hand. If Lestrade held any shock or reservations about their obvious recent development he didn’t show it, and John appreciated it. Lestrade was a complete professional, that was until he put his notepad away.   
“So, how are things around here?”  
John looked up, “Fine, fine. No offence Greg but has this turned into a social call? We have three missing persons, most likely hurt.”  
“Right, well the thing about a missing person case is a person isn’t missing until someone recognises them as such and reports it. So at this point, we only have one missing person, Major James Sholto. What do you two have to go on?”  
For once Sherlock bit his tongue and left it up to John if he wanted to tell Lestrade about his shared private history with Sholto.   
Sighing John appreciated Sherlock’s silence but if they were going to find Sholto and the other two his silence would only harm their case. “Sholto was an ex of mine. As well as a previous commanding officer. So we are working the angle that each of these people are loners by choice and may have had some sort of illicit affair in their past.”  
“Illicit? How was your relationship illicit? Was James Sholto married?”  
“No, but at the time that we first started seeing one another, I was still under his command. There are rules about those sort of things you know.”  
“Ah, gotcha. Alright, I’ll be taking these and you have all you need from them?”  
“Yes. Thank you, Lestrade.”  
Lestrade inclined his head and headed out the door. They had taken additional pictures of each baggie and also of the 2nd and 3rd gift boxes and gave it all to Lestrade minus the picture of them together Sherlock still had that secreted away. And when Lestrade had asked about a second picture Sherlock simply said, “Second picture? There was only one, I just assumed Moriarty didn’t know how to count.”

Now that Lestrade was gone John was up pacing again. “We’ve assumed that each line of this minced song goes together, that each clue was leading us to a conclusion, but what if each of these are separate cases?”  
“If that is true, then we have an unsolved case, the one with the two pictures.”  
John smiled over at Sherlock, “Was there two pictures? ‘Cause I recall you telling a certain detective there had only been one picture.”  
“That’s correct, there was only one picture I spoke out of turn.”   
John sobered up and sat down next to Sherlock, as he reached for his phone again Sherlock quickly captured John’s hand, keeping him from picking up the mobile phone again. “I don’t think that will be very productive. Maybe we can triangulate his whereabouts by pinging his phone.” Sherlock offered.   
“Nah, it was a crap idea to call him at all. He became such a recluse, after the incident, he'd received so many death threats he stopped going out, stopped communicating with the outside world.”  
“Is that why the two of you split up?”  
“No, James shut me out long before he shut out the world.”  
“Alright, how about we see if we can get any hits on the other prosthetics. And you’re sure-”  
“Yes, Sherlock! Christ, I’m sure.”  
Sherlock stood. “I’ll be ready shortly.”

John reclined back on the couch, his arm thrown over his face. Christ! It was his fault that Sholto was in trouble, somewhere possibly hurt with two other people. The major had managed to go years staying under the radar, staying out of reach of those who blamed him for the death of family members and wanted to harm him. Because of his previous association with Major Sholto and now his current association with Sherlock, Sholto was in big trouble. It was little consolation knowing had it not been James it would have been someone else.  
“It’s not your fault.”  
John looked at Sherlock, he no longer wasted time questioning him how he knew what he was thinking, he just took it as gospel, it saved time and headaches. “No, it is. And before you say it, I know had it not been Major Sholto it would have been someone else and we would still be right here where we are. But if not for my association with the two of you he would be safe.”  
Sherlock wasn’t sure what John was getting at, was he regretting their friendship? “What are you saying, John?”  
Sighing and standing up John said, “Nothing, I'm an idiot. Ignore me.”   
Sherlock pulled John forward by his shirt collar, “I will do no such thing.” He kissed John tenderly. “I think I could get used to kissing you.”  
John gave a small smile, “I would hope so, you’re kind of stuck with me.”

A half-hour later the duo was seated in the lab at Barts. Molly leaned over a computer typing furiously. “So you and John are an item now?”  
Molly had tried to sound casual, uninterested but Sherlock could hear the interest in her voice. It had been brought to his attention that Molly had a bit of a crush on him. He had found the thought ridiculous and hard to believe. John often accused him of being cruel to her, so how could she care about someone who treated her badly? Sherlock cared about Molly and her feelings, and he considered her a friend even if he used the term loosely. “Uh, yeah. Are you okay with that?”  
Molly and John both looked up from their task. “What?” Sherlock asked, unsure what he’d done wrong. John gave him a smile and went back to work. Molly stared at him for a long while and seemed close to tears but eventually nodded her head vigorously.   
“Yeah, I am. I think it’s great, John is good for you. Just look how polite you’ve become.”   
Sherlock walked over to Molly and gave her an only slightly awkward hug. “John and I have been doing a lot of hugging as well. Thank you, Molly.”  
Sherlock went back to the computer and records he was searching through.  
“Is that all you two are doing a lot of these days?” Molly mumbled.  
Sherlock had heard her, he turned to check and see if John had as well. He had, there was a playful twinkle in his eye.   
“Uh yeah actually, baby steps with this one Molly. I wouldn’t want to scare him back into his shell.” John winked at Sherlock and continued with his task.   
Each of them had taken a prosthetic and was searching for the owner in the database. John and Sherlock were actually sharing responsibility for the steel rods since those would be harder to track down. John already knew who the eye belong to and all pertinent current information they were able to get from Lestrade. They just needed to identify the other two.   
“What about military records? Maybe they’re all military.”  
Molly looked up, “Do we know for sure there is a connection?”  
“No,” answered Sherlock, “But it’s as good a guess as any at this point.” Sherlock walked over to John’s station and within a couple keystrokes, he had John logged into a secure military server courtesy of his brother’s credentials. “Carry on soldier.”

The trio worked for several hours. Sherlock was just straightening to suggest they take a break when Molly squealed.  
“I found it!”  
“Really?” Sherlock and John both said as they made their way to her. John placed a hand in the middle if Molly’s back looking over her shoulder. Sherlock smiled at them before turning his attention to the screen. As he read over the information on the screen he couldn’t help but reach out and take John’s free hand. He knew Molly wouldn’t be able to see them from her position in front of them. Sherlock didn’t want to cause Molly any undue distress. “You’re right! Goodness, great job Molly. Thank you for your help.”   
Molly blushed and smiled in way of response.

John let Sherlock’s hand go and pulled away, choosing to lean against the table. “Two down, one to go. But I think we need a break. Molly, you have more than pulled your weight, I hope you know you don’t have to stick around. But we also enjoy your company, so completely up to you.”  
Molly looked from John to Sherlock, smiling hesitantly she replied, “I don’t have any plans I can stick around a bit longer. But I would like that break, to use the loo and grab a bag of crisp maybe.”  
“Alright.” Sherlock turned back to his station.  
“Do either of you want anything?”  
Sherlock didn’t reply, already back in case mode so John responded, “Uh, how ‘bout two bottles of water. Thanks.”  
Once Molly left John made his way over to Sherlock. He placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “I’m proud of you.”  
Sherlock blushed a bit at John’s words he knew what the shorter man meant and he had to admit it had felt nice being mindful of Molly’s feelings.   
John turned Sherlock to face him, “Now I know you only suggested a break to get me to yourself, but you really should take a small break. You’ll feel better for it.”  
Sherlock wrapped his arms around John’s waist and pulled him close. “So you found me out huh? Was it so obvious I wanted you to myself?” Sherlock joked as he tipped his face up.  
John shook his head no and gave Sherlock the obligatory kiss. “I’m sure you know I was joking but any excuse to kiss you is okay.”  
“Do you think Molly will be alright?”  
“Of course Sherlock. She genuinely seems happy for us. But I do think we need to be considerate of her in the beginning, give her time to get used to the idea of us as a couple.”  
“I think Molly knew before either of us.”  
“Maybe, but a fact is always more difficult to deal with than an assumption or theory.”  
Sherlock released John from his embrace and stood up. Stretching he was pleased to see John glance down at the bit of skin that flashed as his shirt rode up in his stretch. John licked his lips and Sherlock smiled. John was very attuned to him. And obviously very attracted.   
John saw Sherlock smile and he couldn't help smiling himself. “Are you teasing me, Sherlock?”  
“No, but it’s nice to see I can get a rise out of you.”  
John stepped in close, angled his head as if he was about to kiss Sherlock, but instead he whispered “I could show you how much of a rise you get out of me, but I think it is too soon for that,” against his lips.  
Sherlock felt his insides tighten and his body jerk at John words and their hidden meaning. Sherlock tipped his face down just a fraction, running his lips over John’s.  
John gave a low needy groan right before capturing Sherlock’s lips. Thrusting his tongue past Sherlock’s lips he plundered the space, licking, sucking coaxing Sherlock to kiss him back just as fervently.  
Sherlock’ hands were balled into the fabric of John’s shirt. The kiss was intense, Sherlock felt wide open like John could read his soul with every expert flip of his tongue.   
John broke the kiss abruptly. “Molly will be back soon, no need for her to see us like this.” John adjusted himself and smiled when he saw evidence that Sherlock had been just as affected by their kiss.

By the time Molly walked in just minutes later both men had settled back into their seats and was trying to focus on the work at hand.   
Molly gave both of them a bottle of water. “Is everything okay? Did you two have a row? The tension is thick in here.”  
John looked up and smiled, “No, no row. Everything is good in here. We had ourselves a small break and now we’re settling back in. We have to find the last person.”

“Maybe this will help.” Lestrade strode into the room holding up two pieces of paper. “Hi, Molly.”  
Molly smiled and gave a small wave. “I took all the names of people reported missing in the last 36 hours. Your commander still isn’t up here. Good thing we alrighty know about him. But anyway I figured it'll be a lot quicker -”  
“To cross reference your list with the items.” Sherlock finished.   
“Right.”  
“Well Molly found the owner for the hip, we just have to find who belongs to the steel rods.”  
“There aren’t very many names on the list. Only about seven or so. Hopefully, our person is here.” Greg passed a list to the two other men in the room.   
“Give me half and I'll look too.”  
“Molly, you’ve done enough, sit, eat, we’ll handle this.” Molly smiled at John and sat picking up a sandwich she’d brought in. Lestrade went and stood next to Molly, making small talk. It was obvious to both himself and Sherlock that Greg was completely taken with Molly. And now that he was a divorcee he was free to pursue Molly.

Ten minutes into their search of the new list John hollered, “Found them!” Molly stopped laughing at something Lestrade had been saying and everyone looked over to John. “And he was also in the military. We need to check the name of the bloke that Molly found and see if he was in the military as well.”  
“She. My person was a woman.”  
“Okay, but does it even matter if all of them was in the army or not? We know who they are now.” Greg questioned.  
“It matters. It helps to establish connections and motive. Which will then help us find where they’re being held.” Sherlock explained.   
“Okay, alright.”  
John picked up the notepad with the woman’s name on it. Running it through the database he found that she had indeed served in the army. “She did as well. I’m going to check the internet and see if I can find and scandals against them.”  
“I’m already a step ahead of you John.”   
“‘Course you are Sherlock. Well, what did you find?”  
“All three were in the military as we know. And-” Sherlock looked up to make sure everyone was paying attention, “Each one faced some sort of situation.”  
“Situation? What does that mean exactly?” Lestrade asked.  
“Well, Mrs hip replacement was put out of the army for misconduct. A soldier under her command reported he had been sexually harassed and her counter-story was that they were in a mutual relationship. And Mr steel rods retired but he had several blemishes on his records. Several men and women reported that he made passes at them. A man and a woman both claimed to have been sexually assaulted by him and another handful that claimed he made inappropriate remarks around and to them.”  
“So in short, each kidnapped person was considered a sexual predator rather it was true or not.”  
“Wait? John, was your friend also considered a predator?” Molly asked not knowing about Sholto.  
“By some yes. He and I dated for a spell, and when it got out, the story was spun to make it seem like Sholto had taken advantage of me. I fought the allegations but the implications were already stuck in people's minds.”   
“So all the victims are sexual predators with prostheses.”  
“Alleged sexual predators.” Sherlock corrected.  
Lestrade clapped his hands, “Okay, now that we know who they are what do we do now? Were you given a way to contact him?”  
“Nope.”  
“So…”  
“So you plaster their faces all over the tv and newspapers, while John and I look for our victims.”

Sherlock began gathering up his coat and scarf. John jumped into action gathering the pictures, notepad and his own jacket.  
“Wait, Sherlock,”  
Sherlock and John both turned to face Molly.  
“Be careful. We don’t know anything about this man.”  
“Not true Molly, I know plenty. Only thing I don’t know is what he looks like exactly.” With that bit of news, Sherlock turned, pulling on his scarf and coat as they made for the elevator. In the elevator, Sherlock stared at John.   
Feeling eyes on him John turned and looked at Sherlock, “What? Why are you staring?”  
“No reason. Have I ever told you that I find you quite attractive?”  
“Um, no. You would’ve had no basis for telling me such a thing.”  
Sherlock stepped closer, he ran a finger down John’s cheek. “I find you quite attractive John. And I found it just a tiny bit distracting having you so close yet so out of reach in the lab.” Sherlock lowered his mouth to kiss John just as the elevator doors dinged open. Groaning Sherlock marched out of the elevator.   
John laughed.

The duo sat across from one another in Angelo’s, Sherlock had stated that he did some of his best thinking here. John was eating while Sherlock stared into space thinking.   
“I personally think Moriarty dumped them somewhere. He kidnapped them, opened them up and then dumped them.”  
Sherlock looked at John over his clasped hands. “Why do you think that?”  
“Simple. He doesn’t have time to babysit them. He wants to keep the game moving. If we don’t find them they die. If we do find them they may still die. He doesn’t care. Regardless, there will still be another box under the tree tomorrow.”  
Sherlock had to admit, John made a lot of sense. “Are you done?”  
“Eating? I can be, what’re you thinking?”  
“I’m thinking he told us where to find the missing people in an earlier clue. Let’s go, John.”

Fifteen minutes later Sherlock was pacing with a copy of the picture from yesterday's box, the one with the John look alike. “I can’t make anything out! This could be anywhere.”  
John was seated on the couch watching Sherlock pace back and forth. “Sherlock,” Sherlock kept pacing, deep in thought and completely oblivious to anyone or anything else. “Sherlock, let me see the photo.” Sherlock continued to pace and mumble to himself. John picked up the throw pillow and tossed it at Sherlock hitting him square in the face. Sherlock shocked stopped pacing, shaking his head he looked at John, “Did you just hit me with a pillow?”  
“Yes. Now let me see the damn photo. The fact that the man looks like me isn’t just an added bonus, it means something. Maybe it is somewhere I’ve been before. Or somewhere I am supposed to go.”  
Sherlock sat beside John passing him the picture. Sherlock slumped down in the seat while John poured over the photo. Looking for any recognisable detail.  
John almost lost his concentration when he felt Sherlock’s head hit his lap. “You really like laying like that, don’t you?” He asked.  
“Shh, concentrate. Where is this place?” Sherlock was quiet while John tried to dissect the picture when suddenly a thought occurred to him. One that he hadn’t allowed himself to think about in a very long time. “John,”  
“Hmm?”  
“When you and I met, you were quite fragile, and I did not miss how close you were to breaking. Did you have your suicide planned out? Where and how you were going to do it?”  
John glanced down quickly at Sherlock, this was something they had never discussed. And quite honestly John had hoped he had hidden those first desperate days from Sherlock’s all-knowing mind. “Honestly Sherlock, I had several different plans. But I had truly felt that when it came down to it, it wouldn’t be one of my well thought out plans, it would be spare of the moment with my gun probably alone. Like always. No one to mourn me or to come looking for me.”  
“Did you-”Sherlock's voice cracked just a bit around the edges, “was there a spot you fancied above others for your well thought out plans?”  
John didn’t have long to think before he saw the spot in his mind and the way it's image perfectly overlayed the picture Moriarty had sent them. “I got it!”  
Sherlock sat up, the turn of the conversation had made Sherlock feel raw and morose. He didn’t like the thought that if things had played out differently John wouldn’t be sitting here next to him, he would be just another statistic.

John was on his feet gathering their coat and jacket, they needed to check the location out. Turning back to Sherlock to see what was keeping him, the sight that greeted him all but broke his heart. Sherlock was sitting up clutching at a pillow, his eyes held unshed tears and his face was flush with emotion. Rushing to Sherlock’s side he went down on his knees, taking Sherlock’s hands in his own. “Sherlock, I’m here, I’m better now. You don’t have to worry about me taking my life. Do you hear me? Look at me Sherlock, listen to what I’m telling you. I will not leave you.”  
Sherlock heard John. He really did, but in his mind, he kept seeing John sitting in some decrepit location with the gun in his mouth. _I will not leave you_. Sherlock looked up, he saw the sincerity in John’s eyes and most of all he could see clearly how much the other man loved him. Blinking back the tears Sherlock squeezed John’s hands. “Let’s go find these people.”   
John kissed Sherlock softly, telling the great detective how he felt without words.   
Sherlock kissed John back. Their lips brushing one another, their tongues charging forth and retreating in a timid game of tag.   
Resting his head briefly against Sherlock’s John squeezed his hands. “I mean it, Sherlock. Now let’s get moving.” John stood up and helped Sherlock to his feet.   
“I’ll call Lestrade and have him meet us,” John said as they made their way out the flat and down to the street.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock was having a tough time keeping it together as they searched an old abandoned warehouse. John had thought this place was fit enough to breathe his last breaths. That saddened Sherlock beyond measure. Needing to be reassured Sherlock made his way over to John and slipped his hand into his. He loved that John didn’t call him out in these moments. They were still learning about one another romantically but John was taking his knowledge of Sherlock in general into consideration. Sherlock, as a rule, avoided any emotional talks especially if they involved him directly. He preferred to just pretend they didn’t exist, and bless John he wasn’t treating Sherlock to an inquisition over holding his hand while on a possible crime scene.

They didn’t speak as they made their way through the warehouse, just in case the people weren't here alone. John’s mobile vibrated in his pocket, it was Lestrade, he’d sent a text letting them know he had arrived with back up, but only he was coming in.

As they continued on John heard a noise, he didn’t want to tell Sherlock holding his hand was putting him at a distinct disadvantage. Something had Sherlock spooked, he didn’t normally seek comfort of any type, let alone cling to John like a damsel in distress. The noise came again and acting on instinct John dropped Sherlock’s hand and reached for his gun. But it wasn’t in his holster. John turned to Sherlock and the detective passed the gun to him, butt first. They stood silently listening to the night. When the sound came again John grabbed Sherlock’s hand, mindful to take his left hand leaving his own left hand holding the gun. John had qualified with both hands but he was much better shot with his dominant hand. Reaching a new room John signalled for Sherlock to wait. They listen for several more minutes when John heard talking.

Sherlock bolted past John. He’d heard the woman clearly, and the pain in her voice was evident. These people were alone.

“Sherlock!” John hissed. “Fuck.” The people may appear to be alone but there could be a trap or anything waiting for them. John rushed after Sherlock but stopped in his tracks as he came face to face with the scene before them. A woman lay on a blue tarp, her hip hastily bandaged and he was betting it hadn’t been properly cleaned prior. Next to her, a man lay with his leg flayed open, no bandages covered his wound and last but not least. Sherlock was standing over the body of a man dressed like John. From the angle, John couldn’t see his face but he was guessing it was Major Sholto. He was dressed and laid out exactly like the picture they had received. “Sherlock!” John needed him to snap out of it and help him with the two on the tarp. Pulling out his phone he called Lestrade. “Found them. We need medical attention asap. Yeah, just come straight back.”

“John?”

Sholto’s voice hit John hard. Part of him had thought Moriarty had killed him, especially with the way Sherlock kept staring at him. “Yeah James. Are you hurt?”

“Broken leg, nothing serious.”

John went over to the man whose leg had been brutally cut open, “Sherlock! I need your help.”

Sherlock snapped out of it and rushed over to John, “Sorry, what do you need?”

John looked up at Sherlock, thank God he was so vain. “Give me your tie!”

Sherlock pulled the tie off and passed it to John watching as he gently worked the tie around the man’s leg and then tying it tight.

 

Lestrade and a group of men burst in. Some were medical professionals and some were part of Lestrade’s team ready to dissect the scene. John informed the medical personnel of each of the victim's injuries. He spotted Sherlock back by Sholto. They didn’t appear to be talking but Sherlock didn’t need to talk to get information. John made his way over to them. “James.”

“John.”

Sherlock observed the two men, wanting to take a couple of steps back as to not intrude, but John reached out and grabbed his hand. The paramedics were loading James Sholto onto a gurney and trying to be as gentle as possible.

“Thank you, John.” Major Sholto saluted John as he was wheeled away.

“So was that him then? The ex?” Lestrade asked as he came forward.

“Jeez, Greg! Keep it down will ya.”

“Why? If you didn’t want anyone in your business you wouldn’t have taken Sherlock’s hand. You two are causing quite a scene.”

Sherlock jerked around to look behind them, “What!?”

“Did you really think they wouldn't notice you two holding hands? They watch everything you do at a crime scene.”

“Well, now they can watch us leave. Come along John.”

John started off after Sherlock.

“John! What about your statements?”

John turned and shrugged at Lestrade. “You know everything we do. Write it up, take credit.”

Lestrade had hollered something else but John didn’t hear, he had to jog to catch up to Sherlock, he knew Sherlock would leave without him.

 

Back on the street, John stood next to Sherlock, neither of them speaking. When a cab pulled up John held the door open for Sherlock and climbed in behind him. John knew this game. He had to wait Sherlock out. He was upset and emotional and would only speak on what was bothering him when _he_ was ready to.

They got all the way back home and was settling in when Sherlock finally spoke.

“Why did you take my hand, John?” Sherlock was hanging his coat and scarf up, his back was to John.

“Because I wanted to. Because-

“Because you wanted Major Sholto to know you had moved on?”

“No. Maybe. Mainly I just needed your support in that moment.”

Sherlock walked over to John and pulled him slowly into his arms as if he thought John would refuse him. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with your commander. And I’m sorry he affected you the way he did. But if you want or you need me, I’m here.”

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock. He knew Sherlock had been having a rough night himself, and showing affection in this manner was quite different for him, which made John all the more grateful for Sherlock’s effort.

John disengaged himself from Sherlock’s embrace, taking him by the hand John walked to Sherlock’s bedroom.

Sherlock instantly went on high alert. He didn't think they had reached this level in their relationship. Not to say he wasn’t curious but he most definitely was not ready.

“Calm down Sherlock. We’re just going to try out that sleeping in the same bed bit.”

“Oh. But I like your room.”

“Okay, but your room was closer.”

“Yes, but- never mind, let’s sleep here. We slept in your bed last night, we can alternate.”

 

John pulled off his jumper and began unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m going to be sleeping in my pants, I don’t wear pyjamas to bed. Is that okay?”

Sherlock watched as John slowly revealed more and more skin. His mouth was dry and he was having a hard time formulating words. “Um, uh, y-yeah, it’s fine.”

John stripped down to his pants and climbed into Sherlock’s bed. He laid on his back with his hands tucked beneath his head. Sherlock stared at him for a long moment before he started to strip down himself. But when he got to his trousers he blushed a bit and excused himself snatching up his pyjama bottoms and escaping to the bathroom. John chuckled because he wouldn’t have thought Sherlock was shy. When Sherlock returned and turned off the lights John held out his arms.

Sherlock was nervous and he didn’t know why; he’d slept in the same bed as John the night before. And they had been hugging and kissing all day. Well, they hadn’t been kissing as much as he would have liked. He climbed hesitantly into the bed, settling into John’s open and waiting arms. Sherlock had never done this and wasn’t sure how to lay so that they were both comfortable.

John kissed Sherlock on top of his head and pulled him snug against him. “Get comfortable Sherlock.”

Sherlock squirmed trying to get comfortable, finally when he settled down his shoulder was tucked beneath John's, his head resting on John’s chest, one arm rested on the opposite shoulder and one long leg was tucked between John’s. After several minutes of Sherlock trying to calm himself down and John stroking his back, Sherlock had to admit he liked this. He was warm and felt safe, which was weird because Sherlock didn’t feel unsafe. John smelled like John and that was good.

 

They laid in companionable silence for a long while. Finally, Sherlock had to break the silence with what he was thinking. “This is nice.”

“Mmmhmm, told you it would be.”

“John, do you miss Sholto?”

“What? No. There were times before I met you that I did, but not anymore.”

“Then why did you need me while at the warehouse?”

“Guilt. Having you next to me reminded me that it is not my fault.”

“Oh. But you’re feeling guilty anyway.”

“Yeah. Somewhat.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I know. What were you and Sholto talking about when I walked up?”

“Nothing. Sizing up the competition.”

“Sizing up the competition? What does that mean?”

“Really John?”

John scoffed, tickling the hair on Sherlock's head. “I know what it means, but why? I mean James is not competition. That ship has sailed.”

“Maybe so, but the Major certainly viewed me as competition.”

“Yeah? Well too bad, that's irrevocably over. And there is no competition.”

“John,”

John took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his hand was playing in Sherlock silken curls. “Yes, love?”

John’s words made Sherlock pause, he’d just used an endearment with him. The only thing John had ever called him in all the years they’d known each other was his given name or idiot. Hearing him call him love caused a warm feeling to bubble up inside him.

“Sherlock?”

“Um, I had a question, but I’m not sure it needs to be asked now.”

“Just ask your bloody question, it’ll just come back up later, you know that.”

“Yes, well, I wanted to know if the only reason you are going along with this couple business is so you can keep a better eye on me? Is this a case of you going above and beyond the call of friendship?”

John smiled into Sherlock’s hair. “No, of course not. I’m doing it because- I’m doing this because I love you.”

“Yes, you are quite fond of sentiment, and we are friends. One would assume you cared for me.”

“No Sherlock. I mean yes, I care for you, but you still got it wrong. I have waited so long to be able to show you how I feel about you, to be with you. Not in a strictly platonic way as we have already been, I am _in_ love with you Sherlock Holmes.” John paused knowing Sherlock would need a moment to digest what he’d just said. “I know I reacted badly at first, but I was really caught off guard. I am doing all of this because I love you and it makes me happy to do it. To be here with you, able to reach out and take your hand, to touch your hair, to kiss you. And in time hopefully, we’ll be able to be together in every sense of the word. I am in no rush to get there, we’ll take as much time as you need.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything. He listened to what John said, and the way he said it. It amazed him, John Watson was in love with him. He _wanted_ to be here, and he wasn’t here out of some perceived notion he had to be because they were friends. John wanted to have sex with him. That thought tightened things low in his body and made him feel even warmer.

“Sherlock, were you embarrassed when everyone noticed we were holding hands?”

“No.”

“Had you already told Greg? He didn’t seem surprised when he came to the flat.”

“I needed advice.”

“Oh.” After several minutes of silence, John kissed Sherlock on top of his head and said, “Goodnight Sherlock.”

Sherlock didn’t respond, John knew he wasn’t asleep, he was just processing. He knew that later when his mind caught back up to the present he would mumble out goodnight.

 

When Sherlock woke up the next morning it took him a moment to remember that he’d gone to bed the night before with John holding him. His current situation was quite different. John was on his stomach facing away from him, and he was flush against the shorter man with both his leg and arm wrapped around John. It almost looked like John was wearing Sherlock like a coat.

Sherlock took a deep breath, inhaling the uniquely John scent.

“So, you’re finally awake.”

Sherlock startled, squeezing John in fright.”

“Oi! Don’t squeeze, I’ve got to use the loo.”

Reluctantly Sherlock let John go but was pleasantly surprised when John turned and he was kissed softly on the lips.

“Good morning,” John whispered before he rushed off to the bathroom, he really had to go. When he'd woken up he’d tried to detach himself and leave the bed discreetly, but as he was turning over to get up Sherlock had latched on, wrapping his limbs around him and hadn’t let go. When John returned to the room he dropped down on the bed, laying on his back he scooted closer to Sherlock.

Sherlock looked over at John. “Is it wrong that I don’t want to get up? I just want to lay here a little longer.” John didn’t comment he just opened his arms and like an enthusiastic puppy Sherlock rolled over and clamoured on top of him. He settled between John’s legs, his head resting between the crook of his neck and shoulder. Sherlock allowed his arms to settle to the side of John and sighed.

John wrapped his arms loosely around Sherlock, one hand tunnelling into the detective’s dark curls and the other resting on the middle back of his back.

This was nice, he knew that it would be and he was pleased that Sherlock had acted on his own.

Things were going well and then he felt a hesitant kiss on the pulse in his neck. John didn’t move, didn’t breath, he didn’t want to do anything to spook Sherlock or to dissuade him from his exploration. _Another kiss._

Sherlock could feel how still John had gone, he was sure if he’d done something unwanted John would’ve said something, so he continued placing small chaste kisses on John’s neck and shoulder. One hand came up to join in on the exploration. Slowly traversing from John’s side up past his shoulders to slide through his short gold and silver speckled strands.

John let out a shaky breath. This was a dream come true, or he was still dreaming. He had the ridiculously beautiful Sherlock Holmes tucked securely between his thighs and kissing him. His body was reacting to the stimuli and he knew it was only a matter of time before Sherlock became aware.

 

Sherlock was thoroughly enjoying himself, but he wanted more. He’d once told his brother that sex didn’t alarm him, that hadn’t been a lie. Sex, in general, was a totally normal response to physical and sometimes emotional stimuli. Sex with John Watson, however, that was altogether a different breed of horse. His body, he was pleased to note, was reacting quite favourably to John, but John's desires also mattered, so he didn’t want to do anything that John didn’t- oh. This new development meant that John was enjoying the things that Sherlock was currently doing to him. Good, this was good.

John groaned inwardly, he could tell Sherlock was still undecided, meanwhile, he was hard enough to cut ice with his prick. “Sherlock,” John’s voice was strained and a small whimper escaped his mouth as Sherlock’s knee brushed his groin.

“Mmm?”

“How far do you want to take this? Let me know now because I’m not a saint, and you are making it pretty hard-”

“I can see that John.”

“To think Sherlock, to think.”

Sherlock gave a nipple a lick before he half sat up and smirked at John. “You know I am quite aware of your reputation in the military as 4 continents Watson.”

Now John groaned out loud. That ridiculous nickname again? Throwing a hand over his eyes he sighed and went to adjust himself when Sherlock caught his hand. John lifted his head and looked at Sherlock.

Sherlock didn’t chance a look at John, He dropped the hand he'd captured and moved his own to the waistband of John’s pants.

John held his breath while he waited to see what Sherlock’s next move would be.

Sherlock took a deep breath and then pulled on John waistband, freeing his engorged cock. John hissed as Sherlock tentatively took him in hand.

 

Sherlock had only ever dreamed of being able to touch John uninhibited. He’d had sex before, it had always been about satisfying his body when he could no longer deny his body's needs. And his partner never engaged in foreplay or any kind of actions that could be mistaken for caring. On the days that Sherlock felt like receiving he'd prep himself before meeting up with the man. And in hindsight, he would need to text the man and call off their whole arrangement.

Sherlock watched John’s face. He had never touched another man in such a manner. Hell, he barely touched himself outside of personal hygiene and to prep himself but that was always clinical. The skin that surrounded John's impressive organ was silky smooth and soft to the touch. Sherlock liked the way it felt, extreme hardness encased in softness. He didn’t recall his own member being so soft to the touch.

Sherlock laid on his back next to John his right hand still stroking him while his left hand delved into his own pyjama bottoms. He wanted to compare the feel of the two. Slowly he stroked both himself and John. It hadn’t been his imagination, his skin didn’t feel half as glorious as John’s did. And guessing by the composure John was vastly losing control of, it felt better to him as well.

John watched slack-jawed as Sherlock stroked both of them slowly. He knew Sherlock and knew he was testing some sort of theory his mind, and he wasn’t really here in the bed with him. Hesitantly he reached out his own hand, knocking away Sherlock's and began to stroke his bedmate. The way Sherlock’s body suddenly jerked John thought he had somehow managed to hurt him. “You all right Sherlock?”

Sherlock let out a strained, “Yes.”

He placed a quick kiss on his lips, “Good; because I want you here with me.”

John rolled on top of Sherlock capturing his mouth all in the same movement. Sherlock’s legs parted to welcome him in between. John couldn’t keep himself from moving, he thrust against Sherlock, their pricks wet with precum sliding against each other. Sherlock’s moan nearly broke him. He gripped his hips and thrust harder, faster. He needed this, it had been so long.

Sherlock couldn’t touch enough of John, his hands were everywhere as was his mouth, he alternated between John’s lips, neck and shoulders; kissing and biting. “John!” Sherlock gasped.

John fought to get himself under control; stilling himself he pressed his forehead against Sherlock’s struggling to breathe.

Sherlock ran his hands up and down John’s back, “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

John opened his eyes, “What? No. I just, it’s- I need you Sherlock and you deserve better than a fast shag.

Sherlock crushed his mouth to John’s and rolled them so he was on top. He settled his legs so that he was straddling John’s hips. Sherlock sat up while holding John’s hands above his head. “Are you telling me you don’t want this?” Sherlock ground his hips down to punctuate exactly what he meant. He moaned with the action that ended with a smile when John tried to get loose. Opening his eyes he stared into John’s eyes, “Tell me what you want John.”

John’s voice was deliciously strained as he said, “You.”

“Then have me.”


	8. Chapter 8

John ran his hands up Sherlock’s chest, down his arms and back up again. He pulled Sherlock down to meet his mouth. John was determined to slow down his libido and make love to Sherlock properly. He kissed a trail across Sherlock’s jaw, down his neck and to his chest; flicking the tip of his tongue over a nipple as he came across it.  
Hissing in pleasure Sherlock’s grip tightened on John's shoulders. “John, this isn’t- aah, this isn’t necessary- mmm. I never bother with foreplay anyway.”  
John pulled his mouth away from Sherlock’s body. “What? Are you serious?”  
“Yes, sex is just a physical release for-”  
John cut off Sherlock’s words with a gentle kiss, licking into his mouth slowly while he cradled his face between his hands. “Sherlock, that stops today. I’m going to show you how sex is way more than a physical release.”

John changed their positions so that Sherlock lay on his back and John was once again nestled between his thighs. He could tell Sherlock was both nervous and annoyed. He’d change his mood quickly enough. John placed a kiss over the pulse in his neck and another just below Sherlock’s ear. He felt a small shudder go through Sherlock as he licks along the shell of the detective’s ear. “Relax Sherlock, you’ll enjoy this, I promise.”  
“You keep presuming to know- dear god!” John had bit down on his ear and thrust against him in one smooth motion cutting off Sherlock’s retort.  
“Mmm, sounds like you liked that Sherlock, shall I show you more?” John punctuated his question with a tweak of one of Sherlock’s nipples and a nip at his shoulder.   
Sherlock's hands fluttered at John’s shoulders as he moaned a low yes. John chuckled before dipping his head again nibbling across Sherlock’s clavicle and over to the other ear. He licked slowly along the shell before whispering, “I’m going to make love to your mind as much as your body, I’m going to drive you so crazy with need you’re going to be begging me to take you.”  
Sherlock was breathless with the implications, but he couldn’t help his response, “I never beg.”  
“You will today.”   
John kissed and nibbled his way down Sherlock’s lithe body stopping only when he reached the waistband of Sherlock’s pyjamas.  
When Sherlock scrambled to rid himself of the offending material John caught his hands gently and laid them on the bed beside him.   
“Allow me.” John pulled the bottoms down Sherlock’s long legs pausing only once to nip him above the knee. John tossed the pyjamas on a nearby chair and proceeded to remove his own pants, relishing in the way Sherlock’s eyes followed his every movement.   
“John,” Sherlock spoke his name quietly as he held out a hand. John smiled as he took Sherlock’s hand and placed a kiss on the back of it before rereleasing it. Kneeling at the foot of Sherlock’s bed he captured the taller man’s ankle in his hand.   
“John?”   
His name was now a question on Sherlock's tongue, he loved to hear him say his name, but his goal was to hear Sherlock screaming it. John placed a gentle kiss against Sherlock’s ankle, swirling his tongue slowly around the small protruding bone. A gasp from Sherlock urged him on to repeat the same action on the opposite ankle. Experimenting with his lover's body likes and dislikes he bit down lightly, just above the bone and when Sherlock hissed but didn’t pull his leg away, he took that as a good sign. He took his time alternating between legs, kissing and nibbling, the quiet moans and breathy exhales made him giddy with desire.  
When John had reached the apex of Sherlock’s thighs, he placed kisses all around his pelvis purposely avoiding his erection.   
“John, just get to it.”  
John chuckled, he could hear the desperation in Sherlock's voice and feel it in the hands that grabbed at him. “Patience Sherlock.”   
Sherlock was more turned on then he had ever recalled being. His cock was hard and weeping on to his stomach. And as he watched between barely opened eyes, John licked a sweet line up his shaft causing it to jerk spastically against his will. Sherlock again reached for John, but the little imp just swatted his hands away. John would be the death of him, and not in a sexy way.   
John took immense pleasure in reducing Sherlock to a state of nonverbal cues. He kept reaching for John and trying to direct him to do what he wanted all without actually saying anything. “Sherlock if you want something you will have to ask.”  
Sherlock was beyond frustrated. John was toying with him, and he had never once asked a man to do what he was needing.   
John took pity on Sherlock. “Just this once Sherlock. I’ll give you what you want but in the future tell me what you want.” John closed his mouth over the head of Sherlock’s prick, running his tongue around the glans in a clockwise motion. Sherlock moaned loudly and arched off the bed. John smiled as he placed a hand on Sherlock’s stomach anchoring him down.  
“John! I- it's too much. I was wrong!”  
John interrupted Sherlock’s plea by hollowing his cheeks and sucking gently.  
Sherlock saw stars behind his eyes. He hadn’t even realised he’d closed them. Blindly he reached out a hand and gave a small sigh when John entwined their fingers. John was both his anchor and the fevered sea tossing him along. Peeking between his lashes he was rewarded with the sight of John looking up lovingly while he sucked on his cock.   
John squeezed Sherlock’s hand as he lowered his mouth as far down as he could go, allowing the head of Sherlock’s penis to tickle his uvula and cause him to gag lightly.   
The sound of John gagging caused a ripple of desire to roll through Sherlock’s body and releasing in a harsh groan. “John, no more.”  
John gave one last lick up Sherlock’s cock before settling between his legs. He stared at Sherlock, he really was quite beautiful with his flushed skin and long eyelashes laying demurely across his cheeks. His lips were red and swollen as if Sherlock had been biting them. He reached into the side table liberating a small bottle of lube. John thrust against Sherlock their sweaty bodies slicking the way. Both men groaned as their pricks made contact. John desperately sought Sherlock's mouth as he caught his leg behind the knee and pulled it up. He continued to thrust against the taller man, each moaning into the kiss. John slipped a finger between them circling Sherlock’s puckered entrance.   
Sherlock moaned loud pulling out of the kiss. Before he realised what he was saying he whispered, “Please John. Now.”  
John smiled down at Sherlock kissing him slowly.

John ignored Sherlock's plea and continued to kiss him leisurely, slowly massaging him with a single finger. When Sherlock broke the kiss and glared at him, he chuckled. Allowing Sherlock’s leg to relax on the bed he got on his knees, as he watched Sherlock he opened the lube and squirted a little into his hand. He leaned forward bracing his weight on one arm and spread the lube with the other. Sherlock tensed as one beefy finger slid inside.  
“Shh, relax Sherlock. I need to make sure you’re ready for me. I am quite large.”  
“How do you know I don’t want to take you?”  
John gave a small smile, “Okay, then let’s prep me.” John moved to lay on his back when Sherlock grasped his bicep.  
“No, this is fine. Just get on with it.”  
John placed a quick kiss on the top of Sherlock's nose and resumed the delicate task of opening him up. John carefully worked Sherlock open, kissing him and whispering all the things he wanted to do to him.   
“John, I am not a virgin, please just get on with it.”  
John sat up, squeezing another healthy dose of lube into his hand he spread across his shaft. “Are you sure Sherlock, I don't want to hurt you, and it is our first time.”  
Sherlock determined to get John to do what he wanted, wrapped his legs around him and pulled him into a kiss.   
John took the cue he was given and guided the head of his cock to Sherlock's entrance. Breaking the kiss he wanted to look into Sherlock's eyes as he sank into him for the first time. Slowly, agonisingly slow, John pushed into Sherlock, relishing in the way his mouth slowly parted on a gasp, his hands tightening on his biceps. Holding eye contact, John whispered, “I love you Sherlock Holmes” and thrust the rest of the way home.   
Sherlock had no words. His eyes fluttered close on their own accord as John bottomed out. He'd never felt so full and stretched. John was kissing his face and neck, and the saintly man was shaking, probably with the effort from trying not to move. Sherlock took the reins in hand and rolled his hips up, drawing a low groan from John. “I am not fragile John.”

John got Sherlock's meaning loud and clear. Grinning down at the infuriating detective John slid slowly out and then thrust hard and quick. “Is this what you want Sherlock? A quick, hard shag?” John slowed his strokes and kissed Sherlock reverently, “Or, will you allow me to make love to you slowly and thoroughly?”  
Sherlock the bastard actually zoned out and thought the matter over. John chuckled and began nibbling at Sherlock's neck. “You ass! Come back to me.” John slid in and out at a snail's pace, he wanted to share this with Sherlock not be in the moment alone. He kissed along Sherlock's brilliant jaw, nipping and licking his way back to that delicious neck. John had always had a thing for Sherlock's neck, it was long, pale and just begging to be marked.   
Sherlock slid his hands up John's back, pressing his fingertips in just lightly. “I do believe you're doing an excellent job as it stands, let's go with your idea.”  
John proceeded to make love to Sherlock for half the morning. When he'd finally tired himself out it was with a goofy smile on his face while he held Sherlock to him.   
Sherlock knew he would be sore. He'd never known sex could be this enjoyable. He really needed to contact his guy and break off their arrangement. John had ruined sex with any other person for him. He was in his blood now and under his skin. Sherlock could only see himself with John. He fell asleep not long after John, neither man heard the door to their flat slot creak open or saw the posh man standing in the doorway with a sneer so lethal they may have died on the spot had they looked up.

Sherlock was leaning back against John's chest. He rarely took baths, but he had to admit, it was infinitely better bathing with John. “You must be pretty proud of yourself, hmm?”  
“Why is that Sherlock?”  
“Proving your point. Over and over again if I remember correctly.”  
“Mmm, and what point might that be love?” John's words were low and slightly slurred as if he was falling asleep.  
“That sex could be so much more than a physical release.”  
John chuckled and raised a hand out of the water to run it down Sherlock's arm languidly. “The prize was in the teaching. I've bedded Sherlock Holmes, the once voted most eligible bachelor. Now off the market.”  
Sherlock frowned, “You're not my first John, you know that right?”  
“Wrong Sherlock, I am the first and only person to ever make love to both that beautiful body and brilliant mind. And even though I'm sure I'll be paying for it the next couple of days, I regret nothing.”  
“Nor do I.”  
John placed a kiss on Sherlock's temple before prodding him to get up. “We should wash properly and towel off. The water's grown cold, and you'll get all pruney.”   
Sherlock stood reluctantly crossing his arms he pouted at John.  
“Oh no you don't, you know that pouting doesn't work on me. Besides the water is cold.”  
Sherlock turned his back on John so he could hide his smile. “Wrong, John, my pouting always work on you. Sometimes you're just a little more reluctant to give me what I want.”  
John slipped his arms around Sherlock's waist and spoke into his back, “You're spoiled rotten, you know that.”  
“I do.” Sherlock turned in John's arms and kissed him, taking his time to explore the delicious recesses of John's mouth.

Sherlock pulled away and grabbed the soap. “I do hate when my skin gets so dry. And if I recall correctly, we haven't visited our tree yet.”  
“Ah, I should've known there was something more to you actually doing as I asked.”  
15 minutes later the men were dry and dressed. John was making quick work of a late lunch while Sherlock watched him cook. While Sherlock watched John he was struck with the notion of how much he cared for his flatmate and have utterly devastated he would be if something Jwas to happen to him. “John?”  
“Hmm?”  
“Perhaps we should change the lock and maybe add another?”  
John cast a quick look over his shoulder at Sherlock. “Are you serious? Then what would we do about Moriarty and his presents?”  
“He can leave them in front of the door in the hall all I care.”  
John plated their food and sat one plate in front of Sherlock, stealing a quick kiss as he did. “Are you alright Sherlock? What's gotten into you?”  
“Nothing, just a thought that maybe we're a tad bit careless.”  
“Seriously, who are you and what've you done with Sherlock? Careless is your middle name.”  
“Funny, I thought it was Scott.”  
“You know what I mean Sherlock.”  
Before Sherlock could reply further, there was a loud knock at their flat door.  
“I'll get it.” Sherlock rushed off to get the door, John wiped his mouth and followed behind Sherlock. He arrived just in time to see Sherlock pull open the door and a dark-haired man pulled him into an embrace and snogged the hell out of him. John could see Sherlock freeze up, his hands were stiffly at his side. When the man let go, he smiled at Sherlock like a long lost lover.   
“I've missed you.”  
Sherlock frowned as he straightened his clothes.  
“I thought today would never get here.”  
“‘Scuse me? Is it Thursday then?”  
The newcomer noticed John then. “Oh, sorry. I didn't know you had company.”   
“Without turning to look at John Sherlock said, “This is John, my- partner. John, this man was just leaving.”  
John watched as Sherlock herded the man to the door.  
“Wait, I don't understand. Are you saying it's over between us?”  
“Uh, yeah. That is precisely what I am saying.”  
John saw the hurt pass across the man's face. “Sherlock, don't be so crass.”  
“John, I'm doing this for us. It was never serious between him and I, he knew that.”  
Turning back to the hurting man at the door Sherlock said, “So, I won't be needing your services any longer. Thanks for everything.” And he proceeded to try to close the door on the man.   
“That's it? After a year of shagging and getting to know one another, you're just pushing me away?”  
“Uh yeah, that’s what I said, weren't you listening?”  
The man's face became stony with anger, and John was struck with how familiar he seemed.  
“Ahh the world is just your play toy, and when you're tired of us, you just toss us to the side I see.”  
John approached the men at the door slowly, “Sherlock, how about you invite the man in and explain things to him properly like a human being. Hmm? It's the least you can do. Tossing him out without an explanation is cruel.”  
“I've often wondered who John was, now I see. You and I are very different, I don't see the appeal.”  
“Enough, you're leaving, now.”  
“Sherlock, he's upset, we all get a little testy when we're upset.”  
“Well, wanna know something John?”  
John didn't like the tone of the other man's voice all of a sudden.  
“Sherlock would sometimes call your name out as he was fucking me, or I him! How does that make you feel?”  
John gave a sad smile. “Happy actually. That means while he was getting himself off with you he wished it was me. Now look, I'm sorry you've had to find out about he and I this way and that Sherlock didn't have the decency to invite you in and explain it to you, but I won't allow you to try and insult me in my own home. I sincerely wish you the best, now good day.” John positioned himself between Sherlock and the man, gesturing for the man to leave. John became uneasy, and a shiver ran down his spine when the man straightened up and gave a smile. The feeling of familiarity was back with a vengeance. “Do I know you from somewhere?” John asked.  
The smile grew wider, “Such a smart one, I see why you keep him around Sherlock. I shall take my leave now, I can take a hint.” The man turned towards Sherlock giving one last smile before starting down the stairs.

“Sherlock. That wasn't nice.”  
“Am I expected to coddle every man I sleep with?”  
“No, but some human decency would be nice. Who is he? He said you've been shagging a year.”  
“Yes. His name is Richard Brook. We met on a case, and the obvious is unimportant. We had an agreement, he was never to come to the flat, only one Thursday out of the month unless I called on him otherwise.”  
“How does he know where you live?”  
“Everyone knows where I bloody live.”


End file.
